


Harry Malfoy's Trials

by Madriddler



Series: Harry Malfoy [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: All three are cute little boys, Blaise and Draco fight for Harry's affection, But it is like tiny kisses, Dark Harry, Good Malfoys, Harry Potter was raised by the Malfoys, Harry has family troubles, M/M, Talk of MPreg but just in mentioning, Young Blaise, Young Boys Kissing and not knowing about relationships, Young Draco, Young Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 00:42:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 109,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11302191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madriddler/pseuds/Madriddler
Summary: At 4 years old Harry Potter runs away from the Dursleys to find himself at Malfoy Manor. Adopted by the Malfoys, Harry now grows up as Draco's brother surrounded by pureblood society and dark arts. Easily befriending Draco and Blaise Zabini, Harry grows to be a completely different boy than Dumbledore planned, embracing his Slytherin roots and isn't afraid to show his green colors.





	1. Harry Potter's Fall

**Harry Malfoy’s Trials**

**The First Chapter**

**Harry Potter’s Fall**

            Little Harry Potter was four years old. He was short for his age, very short. He was only two and a half feet tall and skinny, miserably skinny. He had huge emerald green almond eyes, a rat’s nest of black hair, and a thin face. Harry also wore a pair of broken round glasses that he constantly had to push up the bridge of his nose. He wore baggy, old, used clothes that was once his cousin Dudley’s. He lived with his Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia on Number 4 Private Drive as according to his aunt and uncle his parents died in a car crash, which caused the lightning shaped scar on his forehead. Harry does not remember his parents, after all he was only four years old and his mum and dad died when he was only one, that said his Aunt Petunia would often glare at him, sneering at how much he looked like his dad but has his mother’s eyes. Aunt Petunia wasn’t nice to Harry. Neither of the Dursleys were nice to him. He slept in a cupboard under the stairs while his cousin Dudley had two bedrooms (one for him to sleep in and the other for his toys), had to do many chores while his cousin played and he was punished frequently for things he couldn’t explain. Like how one day Dudley was chasing him and he ended up on a branch of a tree suddenly; or how the doors in the house suddenly locked and wouldn’t open; and there was also the time where a trashcan somehow chased around Old Mrs. Figg’s cats. Harry couldn’t explain any of these occurrences, but for whatever reason the Dursleys decided to blame him and punished him for it, which was usually going to bed without any dinner or spending days without end in the cupboard surrounded by disgusting spiders and cobwebs. The four year old had little creativity, any of which was squashed by the Dursleys, but he did sneak in some toy soldiers into his small and cramped bedroom which allowed him to past the time he is stuck in there without growing completely bored.

He was also a good runner. A very good runner for his small age. He had a lot of experience running away from Dudley and his friends. Today, for example, Harry was running in the local park, Dudley and his friends chasing after him. They were running away from the main play area and to a very small forest that was fenced in. Harry looked behind his back and marveled at the fact that for being quite a fat boy, Dudley could run for quite some distance. However, Harry was more worried about Piers who was a very, very fast runner for a four-year-old. The boy in question was only a foot behind Harry which caused the small Potter to run even faster. However Harry’s legs tripped up causing the boy to fall, skidding on the grassy ground and causing his glasses to crack.

“He fall! He fall!” Piers laughed. “Dudley he fall!”

“I see,” Dudley said catching up to Piers. They laughed at Harry as the small boy tried to struggle to his feet. The closest Harry reached was on his knees before Dudley pushed him down again. “What matter Harry? No get up?” Dudley laughed.

“Stop it,” Harry groaned as he tried to get up again, only to fall down. From the playground Vernon and Petunia Dursley was watching, Vernon chuckling. “Look at that Petunia darling, they’re all playing nicely. A little rough fun does a boy good. You mark my words, nothing gets a group of boys closer together than rough play. Look! They’re going to run again.”

Harry got up and started running. His heart started to pump faster and faster, he felt a cold sweat drenching his skin as he closed his eyes wishing he was somewhere, anywhere, away from the park. Even if that place was the cupboard with his toy soldiers. His legs felt as if lava was pouring through his veins, an angry burn ran through his muscles as he started running with a limp. “Harry! Come back!” Dudley yelled out as he and Piers chased him. “You’re too fast! Fall again!”

Harry continued running. He knew that if he could reach a street then the boys would stop chasing him. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon always told Dudley, and only Dudley, not to run in the streets. He could see the fence that blocked the forest from the rest of the world and ran towards it, his lava-filled legs screaming in pain, his heart on the verge of a breaking point, his head pounding with fear. He was almost there, almost at the fence. He just had to jump and—

A hand grasp Harry’s ankle as he jumped and he felt his weight crashing down on the grass again. His body exploded in pain and he could hear the sickening crack of his glasses as his head collapsed on the ground. He turned to see Dudley holding onto his leg and pulling the small child towards him. “Where you going Harry?” he asked.

Harry flinched, bracing himself the inevitable pain of his cousin’s slap but it never came. Instead he was stopped by Aunt Petunia calling out, “Dudley! Dudley, it’s lunch time!”

“Lunch!” Dudley smiled, turning to Piers. “Let’s go Piers!” He said gleefully as the two children all by forgotten about Harry and ran to eat. Harry winced as he slowly gotten up. His legs were still burning and his head throbbed painfully. He reached and rubbed it, his hands stopping before his scar. When he felt like he could walk again Harry started to, slowly making his way towards his Aunt and Uncle. His vision was severely limited; the cracks in his glasses made everything looked double and it was very difficult to judge distance. He only knew he was close to his aunt and uncle when he heard Aunt Petunia’s angry voice, “Harry! What are you thinking breaking your glasses like that? Get over here!”

Harry felt a soft hit on the back of his head and a pull from his arm as Aunt Petunia pulled him towards the park bench. “You think we’re giving you lunch after this, you are wrong boy,” she sneered. “Your uncle and I spend good money for these glasses and now we’re going to have to fix them again.”

“Harry is so mean,” Dudley said with his mouth so full of food that bits were spraying out as he talked. “He broke his glasses again.”

“If it were up to me I say let the boy run around blind,” Uncle Vernon gaffed, “Letting him stumble around until his eyes fix themselves.”

“If we do that, how do you think the neighbors will think?” Aunt Petunia said. “They already know the boy can’t see.”

“We can just tell them we’ve sent his in to get fixed,” Uncle Vernon said. “If they ask we’ll just say they keep getting delayed or something.”

“Vernon that’ll won’t last forever,” Aunt Petunia said.

“Well what else are we supposed to do Petunia darling? The boy’s glasses cost us nearly two hundred to repair last time!”

“Well this time we’ll have to be sure the boy is more careful,” Aunt Petunia said, looking down at Harry. Harry felt something bad in his stomach; he knew that whatever is going to happen he will be spending time in the cupboard.

He was right. As soon as they’ve returned home the first thing Uncle Vernon did was shove Harry into the cupboard and locking the door after ripping his glasses off of his face.. “You are not coming out until your glasses are fixed boy, and then it is chores until you’ve paid your debt!”

In the blurry darkness Harry felt for his toy soldiers. He had to swat away a couple of spiders that were crawling around them. Sitting on his bed with nothing else to do he played with his figures, making them march around the bed before engaging in battle which consisted of Harry smashing the toy soldiers against each other until he decided which one will fall. Minutes slowly turned into hours. He could hear his cousin and Piers upstairs, their playing causing dust to fall from the bottom of the stairs that was Harry’s ceiling. His stomach started to growl but his door remained locked. Harry knew that if he knocked on the door he would only get in more trouble. So he continued to play and wait in the blurry darkness. When he got tired, he just collapsed on the bed until he woke up again.

A day passed like this. Then two days. Then a third, and finally a fourth.

On the fifth day the door was finally opened and Uncle Vernon’s fat large frame stood in front of the door. “Don’t break these ones,” he threatened as he shoved the new glasses onto Harry’s face. “Now go out and work on the garden. It needs weeding.”

“Yes Uncle Vernon,” Harry said.

He went outside and felt the unusually hot and sunny day’s heat. Still in the same clothes from five days ago, Harry bent down and got on his knees before the small garden path that lined the walkway from the sidewalk to the front door. Using his hands, he spent the next hour pulling weeds as the hot sweltering sun’s beams shined onto Harry’s pale neck and arms. He was a sweaty mess when he was done and he didn’t take two steps into the house before Aunt Petunia ordered him outside again. Taking a gardening hose she sprayed Harry “clean” before making him stand outside to dry. Harry used the time to quickly use the bathroom and walk inside to do his indoor chores which included vacuuming the entire first floor, doing the dishes, and helping Aunt Petunia with dinner, which was the first meal he ate in a long time.

After dinner he was allowed to have a very short bath with cold water and he returned back to his bed under the cupboard for the night.

The next day was more or less the same: Harry woke up, Uncle Vernon dragged him out of the cupboard and he spent the day doing chores while Dudley sat around and watched television. Harry was currently vacuuming in the television room. Dudley was sitting on the sofa with a big fat piece of chocolate cake on a plate sitting on his lap watching a cartoon that Harry never saw before. The vacuum was too big for him, easily towering over his small frame so Harry had to hold it by the middle as he pushed and pull. It was a slow terrible task; it usually took Harry half an hour to get one room done. When Harry neared the sofa Dudley was sitting on, the fat child thought it would be funny to bully Harry. He took the fat piece of chocolate cake and held it in front of Harry. “Want a bite?” asked.

Harry looked at the piece of cake, his mouth already salivating as he looked at the fudge icing and little chocolate shavings that peppered the top of the cake. He nodded eagerly. “Yeah,” he said.

“Here,” Dudley said holding out the plate and the fork he was using. Harry reached out, his stomach growling in anticipation of eating the chocolate cake (needless to say the young Potter have never tasted chocolate before). But just as Harry’s fingers were about to reach the fork Dudley’s hand slipped and the chocolate cake fell onto the carpeted floor spilling everywhere as it seemed to smash into pieces. “Oops,” Dudley laughed. He threw down the fork as well. “There!”

“Duddles? Dudley what was that noise?” Aunt Petunia asked from the kitchen.

Dudley’s face screwed up into an ugly sight as his cheeks became red and fat tears rolled down his cheeks. “Mummy!” he cried. “Harry smacked my cake down!”

“What? Harry Potter come here!” Aunt Petunia yelled.

“But Aunt Petunia—“

“Now!”

Dudley laughed as Harry placed the vacuum on the floor and stepped over the cake. Dudley turned and said, “Get me another piece of cake, cousin!” Harry just grimaced.

Aunt Petunia looked furious with her hands to her side and her long horse-like face in a disappointed frown. As soon as Harry walked into the kitchen she said, “Why did you have to antagonize your poor cousin like that? Dudley worked hard for that piece of cake and you just decide to smack it down to the floor? Harry, you will go into that room, apologize to your cousin and clean up the mess you caused. After that you are going straight to your room, do you understand?”

“But Aunt Petunia—“

“Do you understand?” she repeated.

“Yes, Aunt Petunia,” Harry sighed. He turned around and made his way back into the living room. Dudley was still sitting in the same exact spot but he had a large chunk of the cake in his hands, which he was eating.

“Where’s my cake?” he asked with his mouth full of food.

Harry ignored him and turned the vacuum back on. He started vacuuming the rest of the cake ignoring Dudley’s jeers. “Hey! Hey! I’m talking to you! Hey!” Harry felt a hand on the back of his head and was pushed into the vacuum, thankfully missing the unit entirely but again was pushed to the ground. Harry felt something weird on his lips and poked his tongue out to taste something extremely sugary. Dudley pushed him directly into the frosting. Harry heard Dudley’s laugh as he got back onto his feet, wobbling a bit. Lifting up his used shirt, Harry cleaned his face before completing the task, vacuuming all he could before returning to the kitchen for a spray and sponge to take out the stain. Dudley laughed and jeered at him all the time, pointing with his fat chocolate-covered fingers as Harry rubbed the stain aggressively but it wouldn’t come out!

“Ahh!” Harry yelled in frustration. All of a sudden he looked down and the stain was gone! And the vacuum cleaner jumped a couple of inches, starting itself and landing on its side.

“Mum! Harry did something!” Dudley yelled out, trying to crawl away from the vacuum cleaner and Harry. Harry just stared at him in confusion. He did nothing! All he did was clean the mess Dudley made.

“Harry!” Aunt Petunia yelled as she walked into the living room.

“The thing started by itself!” Dudley said pointing at the vacuum.

Aunt Petunia’s lips thinned as she pursed them together. She took long strides towards Harry and pulled him towards her. She sat down and held Harry across her lap with one arm. Harry looked up to see Dudley smirking. Aunt Petunia raised her hand and brought it down on Harry’s butt, spanking him repeatedly very roughly. Harry flinched with each spank, tears welling at the edge of his eyes which only caused his cousin to snigger harder. Aunt Petunia gave Harry twenty welts before she stopped. By the end Harry’s rear was stinging madly and Harry had to try his hardest to keep the tears from falling. Aunt Petunia grabbed Harry by the lobe of his ear and dragged him to the cupboard under the stairs, opening the door and shoving the boy in there before locking it. “It was not me! It turned on like magic!” Harry cried out.

“There is not such thing as magic,” Aunt Petunia said before locking the door and closing the shutter, leaving Harry to darkness again.

This time they’ve left Harry in there for two days. When Uncle Vernon unlocked his door it was life as usual as nobody talked or even mentioned Harry’s punishment or the fact that the boy barely ate anything in more than a week. Harry did his chores and kept his head down as Dudley slacked off watching television or playing with his toys. It was an endless droll of chores and scolding, chores and scolding, chores and scolding. Harry was shocked to find that one day the Dursleys were bringing him to the park again.

It was a cloudy day that threatened to rain any moment now but Harry didn’t care as he ran out of the car and to the swing set that he can do all by himself. The park was empty except for the Dursleys, Harry, and a couple of Dudley’s friends who Aunt Petunia promised to watch that day. Dudley and his friends went to the jungle gym leaving Harry alone on the swings, which was fine for the little boy as he kicked his feet to swing higher and higher. Harry closed his eyes as the swing shot up, his legs extended and opened them as he swung downwards with his legs tucked in. He could see the whole park when he got up high enough; Dudley and his friends were no longer at the jungle gym instead they were hunched over near a tree in a huddle. Harry ignored them and continued to play on the swing set getting higher and higher. Perhaps this time he’ll get so high that his body will be parallel to the ground. Harry smiled at his challenge and kicked with all his effort trying to get that extra inch of height.

He could feel it, it felt like he was flying his baggy clothes were fluttering around his body, he could feel his weight move from the bottom of the seat—something hard hit Harry in the face—and he was falling, head first, to the ground. Warm liquid was flowing from the place where something hard hit him, a rock or something, all he knew was that he was falling. Harry scrunched his eyes together wishing for a soft landing.

He continued to fall down further and further down the air towards the ground but Harry was sure that he should have felt the ground by now, he should be surrounded by unbelievable pain. But instead he just kept falling; falling deeper and deeper into the ground until he felt a tight pull on his navel. And all of the sudden the falling sensation was replaced by a tight compression as if iron bands were strapped across Harry’s chest and he squeezed through a very long, very small metal tube—then falling again but when he his body hit the ground it wasn’t hard, or at least as hard as Harry expected, but instead he landed on his back like he fell only two feet instead of ten.

Harry laid still anticipating Dudley and his friends to kick him or drag him up. But instead nothing happened. He couldn’t even hear the traffic from the nearby streets… and somehow the park smelled differently. It turned from a humid city smell to… trees. Harry could smell a lot of trees. And flowers. Trees and flowers… there were no flowers at the park. Confused at the smells he was smelling Harry opened his eyes and looked in front of him.

A garden with exotic flowers and very neat hedges that were taller than Harry surrounded him. Harry was laying on a strip of grass that was next to the cleanest sidewalk Harry has ever seen. He got to his feet, his back aching slightly, and looked around. To his left was a rainbow of flowers, all of which were kinds that Harry never saw before. He approached them cautiously before a bigger, more impressive sight caught his attention.

It was a house, a very big house. Harry remembered only seeing houses like this on the television. A manor! That is what Aunt Petunia and the man on the telly called houses like these. It was a handsome manor house made of stone that stood like a small castle with diamond-paned windows. In front of Harry there was a set of double doors made of maple wood and had an elaborate carving in it. Feeling scared and alone, Harry decided to head towards the door of the manor. He took a step and felt the same warm liquid running down to the top of his lips. Harry reached to touch his face and felt a nasty cut on the side of his cheek running under his left eye; whatever hit him somehow missed his glasses completely.

“Ow,” Harry winced when he touched it. He wanted to scream and cry, but didn’t. He just rubbed his bloodied fingers on his used clothes and continued towards the doors. Perhaps whoever lived there could help him out. When he reached the door he made a fist and knocked on it. “Hello?” he called out.

The door opened to reveal the funniest man Harry had ever seen. He had a huge bald head and large pointy ears that stuck out and eyes the size of tennis balls. His skin was leathery and was only wearing a flour sack with a big “M” embroidered on it. “Hello,” Harry said timidly, remembering the sentences Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon told Dudley if he was ever lost. “My name is Harry Potter. I live at Number 4 Private Drive; can I use your phone to call my aunt and uncle?”

“Harry Potter?” the funny looking man said, his tennis-sized eyeballs growing large when he saw Harry’s scar. “You are Harry Potter?”

“Yes,” Harry nodded. “My name is Harry Potter. I live at Number 4 Private Drive. Can I use your phone, please?”

Harry watched in amazement as the man disappeared with a large cracking sound. There was a far off cracking sound deeper in the house. Harry took a step into the manor and looked around. There were high walls with taller pictures of people who all looked alike. Harry guessed they were members of the same family as he looked up at them, and for some reason Harry had a strange feeling that the pictures were looking back at him.

“Harry Potter? What are you talking about elf, why would Harry Potter suddenly appear in our gardens?” a woman’s voice asked followed by the sound of heels clicking on the floor.

“It is true, Mistress, Harry Potter is here,” the funny man’s voice said. The footsteps became louder and Harry saw a thinly tall woman with pale skin, blue eyes and blond hair. She stopped when she saw Harry standing there in his dirty hand-me-down clothes, bleeding cheek, and disheveled look. “Boy, who are you?” she demanded in a rather cold voice.

“M-My name is Harry Potter,” Harry recited. “I live at Num—Number 4 Private Drive. Can I use your phone, please? I don’t know how I got here.”

The lady stared at Harry, her eyes going from Harry’s disheveled looks to the scar on his forehead. Her eyes narrowed. “Who are your parents?” she asked.

“My parents…”

“Who are your parents, boy?” the lady asked again.

“James… and Lily Potter,” Harry said, struggling to remember their names. The lady’s narrow eyes widened a moment before narrowing again. “Potter, so it is you… why do you look so… homely?” she asked.

Harry stared at her in confusion, not knowing what the word ‘homely’ is. Was she referring to his clothes? “These are my cousin’s first,” he said. “My cousin is my age but is very, very fat. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia don’t buy me new clothes.”

“I don’t know these people… must be from your mudblood side,” the woman said more to herself than Harry. She stared at Harry as if contemplating what to do. She stepped closer and pulled out a stick of wood out of her pocket. It was then that Harry realized that the lady was wearing strange clothes it was like a dress that was too long. She pointed the stick at Harry and muttered, “ _Episkey._ ”

Harry felt a heat on his cheek where the cut was and gasped when he found that the cut was gone! “How did you do that?” he gasped as the lady placed the piece of stick back into her pocket.

“You don’t know what magic is?” she said a little snobbishly.

“Uncle Vernon said that there is no such thing as magic,” Harry said automatically.

“Of course he would, the muggle,” the lady said. “Harry, what do you know of your parents?”

“They died in a car crash,” Harry said.

“A car crash?” the lady laughed. “A car crash killed Lily and James Potter? That’s ridiculous!” She laughed coldly, making Harry very angry.

“Don’t laugh!” He stomped, crossing his arms. That only caused the woman to laugh even more.

“Mother? Why are you laughing?” a voice asked. A blond boy around Harry’s age but a foot taller came walking in. “Mother, who is that?” the boy asked, his silver eyes going to Harry.

“H-Hello,” Harry said, relieved to see a boy his age. “My name is Harry Potter. I live—“

“Harry Potter?” the boy gasped, his eyes going to Harry’s scar. “Mother and Father told stories about you!” The boy walked up to Harry and stood in front of him, which only made Harry confirm that he was a foot taller than him as Harry’s head only reached the boy’s chest. The boy took Harry’s hand and shook it. “I’m Draco Malfoy,” he said. “What are you doing in my home?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said frowning. “I was on the swing swinging, I got very high when something hit me. A rock or something that my cousin Dudley threw at me. I fell and I fell but instead of landing on the ground at the park I landed here.”

Draco turned from Harry to the lady. “Mother, can’t Harry stay here? I always wanted to meet him.”

“Draco, I don’t think this would be the wisest thing,” the lady said. “What would your father think about this…”

“Mother please? I promise we’ll be good. And when Daddy comes home I will talk with him,” Draco said.

The lady pursed her lips but sighed. “Very well. But the three of us will require a very long talk. You know what the boy has done… what his parents had done.”

“I’ll show him all the right things!” Draco said proudly. His hand still holding Harry’s. The lady’s face brightened a moment before returning to her neutral position. She nodded and turned to leave the room, waving her stick again. The door closed behind Harry but he did not have time to marvel at it as Draco pulled his hand. “Come on Harry, I’ll show you to my room! It’s the best place in my home.”

“Where are we?” Harry asked following Draco.

Draco smirked. “We’re home! My home: Malfoy Manor, home of the oldest family of the wizarding community.” He saw Harry’s confused look and smirked. “I’ve got so much to tell you Harry! You’re going to look up at me when I’m done!”


	2. Lucius and Narcissa have a Talk

**The Second Chapter**

**Lucius and Narcissa Have a Talk**

It was the biggest and most awesome room Harry has ever seen! It was definitely bigger than his cupboard under the stairs, in fact it was bigger even than the living room and kitchen at Uncle Vernon’s house put together. The floor was wooden with a dark wood that Harry couldn’t begin to describe. There was a large oval rug that was an light green color and on which several toys laid scattered around. Much to Harry’s amazement there was a broom flying around, an actual broom _flying_ , a couple of feet above the ground. The walls were wallpapered with a dark-green color and childish drawings of large snakes, lions with wings and a snake as a tail, a bird that seemed to be on fire, and many, many more animals that Harry didn’t recognized or thought possible. There was a bookshelf filled with stuffed animals and children’s books that Harry guessed the lady read to Draco as well as two large windows with silver curtains. Harry turned to see another small broom that was brightly colored leaning on a wall, and what looked like a very, very large bowl that was black in color and stood up to Harry’s chest and many bottles of liquids and food-looking stuff that made Harry hungry (Near the cauldron was a book that read _Professor Pilling’s First Cauldron and Fun Potions_ for Young Wizards but Harry couldn’t read yet). But the most marvelous thing for Harry was the bed. The bed was two times, no, four times the size of Harry’s small mattress that was stuffed in the cupboard. It looked like it could fit ten Harrys and still have room for them to be spread out. It was a canopy bed with green and silver curtains, and about eight to ten pillows on the headboard. Lastly there was a desk that was too big for either Draco or Harry as well as a fireplace with a grate in front of the opening.

“Well, this is my room Harry,” Draco said smiling broadly. “Can’t wait to tell the others I have Harry Potter in my room!”

“Why do you know my name?” Harry frowned. “And that lady as well—is she your mum?”

“That’s my mother yeah,” Draco said. His smile stopped as he stared at Harry. “Wait… do you not know about why your famous, or your parents?”

“My mum and dad died in a car crash,” Harry frowned. “My Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia told me so.”

“A car crash?” Draco asked, his lips and eyebrows frowning. “What’s a car? And that’s not how they died!”

“What are you talking about?” Harry asked. How could Draco not know what a car is? “Don’t your parents have one? Big machine with four wheels that you drive around.” Harry’s moved his hands far apart to try and show the size of a car.

Draco’s frown deepened. “Do you not know what you are?” he asked.

“What are you talking about Draco?” Harry repeated.

“Harry… you’re a wizard! Like me! And my father and your father—we can do magic,” Draco said. “Look around! You see the broom flying by itself? I was flying around it before you came.”

“You were flying?” Harry gasped.

“Yeah! Look!” Draco said. He quickly ran to the broom, swung his leg over it and sat down on it, placing both hands on the handle. Harry watched in amazement as Draco leaned forward and the broom moved forward as well. It seemed to follow Draco’s body as he and the broom flew around the room going up and down whenever Draco pleased. “Wow!” Harry grinned. “How are you doing that?”

“Magic!” Draco yelled. “We’re wizards! We can do magic!”

“But my uncle told me there’s no such thing as magic,” Harry frowned.

The blonde boy stopped the broom and hovered down. Getting off of the broom he looked at Harry. “Your uncle is lying then,” he said. “Of course there’s magic! Look at how you got here, that was magic.”

Harry frowned as he tried to think of a logical explanation of how he could travel from a small park in Little Whinging to the big Malfoy Manor in… wherever he is now. “I guess so…” he said. “But still my mum and dad died in a car crash! Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia wouldn’t lie to me about that!”

“But they did,” Draco said. “The story of Harry Potter and the Dark Lord is the most talked about story with kids our age!”

“There’s a story about me?” Harry gasped.

“Yeah, mum told me it a lot,” Draco nodded. “Want me to tell you?”

“Please!” Harry said. Draco had Harry move to the rug and sit down. Draco moved to the desk and, with some difficulty, moved the chair closer to the rug. He then took a random book from the bookshelf, walked back to the chair, placed the book on the chair and climbed up it. Sitting down he opened the book and looked at Harry. “Pay attention, Harry,” he ordered. Harry nodded and leaned forward. Draco cleared his throat and pretended to read as he told Harry the story.

“The Dark Lord was a great and powerful wizard who wanted to change the wizarding com—communit—communi—community. He wanted to allow wizards to use spells the Ministry made il—ilega—ileegul—illegal! He also wanted to get rid of Muggles, people who couldn’t do magic like your Aunt and Uncle and got the help of other magical creatures like giants and werewolves, creatures that the wizarding com—communi—comunt—communit—comm-un-i-ty look down upon. He wanted pure-bloods like my family to rule over everyone—“

“That sounds bad,” Harry interrupted frowning. “Sounds like how Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia raised me.”

“What are you talking about?” Draco asked, leaning over the book.

“They told me what to do, made me to all the chores while Dudley sat and watched tv and eat cake, and after that they put me to bed under the cupboard. Every day was that,” Harry said.

“But the Dark Lord is different, he only wants the Muggles to work for us and pure-bloods to keep their power,” Draco said.

“That’s exactly the same!” Harry argued.

“No it isn’t!”

“Yes it is!” Harry huffed. He crossed his arms and pouted. “Continue your story,” he said.

“Oh! Okay,” Draco said. “Umm… the Dark Lord started a war with the werewolves and giants against the Ministry! But a man named Dumbledore went against us, he led another army that your parents were in. The war went on, and on, and on, and on, and on, until three years ago. My mother said that on Halloween the Dark Lord found your home and came to it. He… he killed your father first. Your mother tried pr—prote—protecting you but she died as well. But he couldn’t kill you! The Dark Lord couldn’t kill you! He tried, but when he did a huge blast happened and all that was left was you and that scar on your head!” Draco pointed dramatically to Harry’s forehead where the lightning shaped scar sat. “Dumbledore came to your home and took you, hiding you away from the magical com—comuni—community. Nobody knew where you went, but it looks like you were sent to live with Muggles.” Draco’s face scrunched in disgust.

Harry nodded. “With my Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon,” Harry said. “They told me that magic is not real and made me do all the chores in the house and out.”

“Muggles are awful, aren’t they?” Draco asked. “That’s why father said that they all had to learn their place.”

“But they can’t be all bad,” Harry said.

Draco shrugged. “I don’t care,” he said. “What’s important is that you’re back where you belong! In the wizard comuni—comuni—world! And that’s where you’re going to stay.” Draco closed the book as if that was the end of the discussion and slid down the chair. He placed the book back on the bookshelf and pushed the chair back to the desk. Turning back to Harry, Draco placed his hands on his hips and said, “Let’s play! Why don’t you look around my room and pick any toy you want and I’ll tell you about it.”

“Okay,” Harry said standing up. He brushed his second-hands clothes and Draco grimaced. “No, no, no, no,” Draco said waving his hands. “No, no! No good! You need better clothes. Dobby!” Draco yelled.

There was a loud crack and the same silly-looking man from before appeared. “How can Dobby be helping Master Draco?” he asked.

“Get Harry better clothes,” Draco ordered, snapping his finger like he seen his mother do. The silly man nodded and rushed to the wardrobe. He opened the bottom draw and pulled out a small jumper, pants, and the strange shirt-thingy that both Draco and his mother were wearing. Dobby placed them in front of Harry and snapped his fingers, disappearing again.

“Where did that silly looking man go?” Harry asked.

“Man?” Draco laughed. “Harry that was no man—that was Dobby one of our house-elves. I’ll tell you more about it later, now let’s get you in some better clothes!” He grabbed Harry’s too-large shirt and pulled it over Harry’s head, the boy’s arms going up as Draco pulled the shirt off.

“Draco!” Harry said in shocked, trying to hide his small body behind his hands.

“Sorry but they need to go,” Draco said his nose turned upwards. “Those clothes make you look awful. Now take off your pants,” Draco ordered.

Harry blushed. Draco wanted him to get naked in front of him? Seriously?

“Well? What are you waiting for?” Draco asked impatiently.

Harry blushed and stared at Draco. “I can’t do this… now while you’re looking!”

“Huh… oh, okay,” Draco said. He turned around and looked over his shoulder. “Okay go ahead,” he said.

Harry made sure that Draco wasn’t watching before he pulled down his pants, he wasn’t wearing any underwear, and kicked them off. He did the same with his shoes, which were practically falling apart, and looked at the small pile of clothes in front of him. He picked up the sweater first and pulled it over his head, amazed that it fitted him perfectly. He then picked up the pants and looked around. “Umm… Draco,” he blushed holding the pants in front of him, covering his private parts. “There’s no underwear.”

“Really? Darn house-elf,” Draco grumbled. “I’ll get it.” He moved to the wardrobe and pulled a drawer out. He took out a pair of green briefs and black socks and placed them on the pile of folded clothes. He went back to the wardrobe and faced it as he closed the drawer. “Okay Harry! Hurry up!”

Harry dropped the pair of pants and pulled on the green briefs. He sat down and pulled the socks on his feet before laying down to put on the pants. It took him a couple of minutes, but Harry got it eventually. He then picked up the funny-looking shirt/coat and frowned. “Draco? What’s this?” he asked.

Draco turned around and smiled. “That’s a robe Harry, just put it on like a coat.” He moved to help the robe on Harry and took a step back, examining the boy personally. “There we go,” Draco said. “Now you look like a decent wizard Harry. He went to pick up Harry’s old clothes, holding them at arm’s length. “Dobby!” he yelled again.

There was another crack and the silly-looking man appeared again. “Yes Master Draco?” he asked.

“Burn these, Harry won’t need them anymore,” Draco declared. Harry didn’t argue about Draco throwing the clothes out: they barely fit him and smelled horrible compared to the nice, soft, sweet-scented clothes that he was currently wearing.

“Yes Master Draco,” Dobby said taking the bundle of clothes and shoes and disappearing with them.

Draco turned to Harry and looked down. “Now we just need to find shoes for you,” he said. “You can borrow a pair of mine as well. Blaise’s gonna be jealous! Harry Potter is wearing _my_ clothes!”

Harry couldn’t help but giggle at Draco’s attitude as he led Harry to a small stack of shelves that had different pairs of shoes on placed neatly in each cubby. Harry couldn’t help but stare at it; there was more shoes on the shelves then Harry has seen in his life! More than ten! Draco grabbed a black pair of shoes and gave them to Harry. “These will work,” he said nodding to himself. “And they tie themselves! Put those on and we can finally play.”

“Okay Draco,” Harry said sitting down. He took the shoe and slipped it onto his foot. It seemed to shrink to fit him perfectly, and Harry had to admit that they were very comfy. He watched in utter amazement as the shoe strings sprung to life and tied themselves into a neat, perfect bow. He placed the other shoe on and watched again as it seemed to shrink and tie itself. Harry couldn’t help but wondered what else magic could do.

Draco nodded in approval and helped Harry up. “Okay,” he said, “Now we can play.”

 

Narcissa Malfoy paced the length of the drawing room, waiting for her husband. She sent a house-elf to tell him to come home immediately. The fireplace in the drawing room sprung to life, burning a green flame as Lucius walked in. “Narcissa, is everything all right? Is Draco all right? What is the matter?” he asked as he hugged his wife.

“We need to talk, something happened,” Narcissa said. “Draco is fine, I have house-elves watching him and… our guest.”

“Guest? What guest?” Lucius frowned. Narcissa pulled him to a sofa and sat him down.

“It’s Harry Potter,” she said. “The boy just appeared in our gardens! I saw the scar on his forehead—and he looks exactly like his father.”

“Like James? It can’t be,” Lucius said.

“It is,” Narcissa said. “From the sound of it, the boy was living with his mudblood of a mother’s relatives—“

“Muggles?” Lucius said, completely flabbergasted. “The son of James Potter living with muggles? That’s outrageous!”

“I know it is,” Narcissa said. “But what should we do? Should we really send the boy back to those muggles?”

“I don’t know, Nissy, this is a tough situation,” Lucius sighed. “…Living with muggles, how disgusting. The thought of it is enough to make me… never mind. How did the muggles treat the boy?”

“His face was cut, it seemed as if his cousin threw a rock at the boy when he was on a swing-set. The boy fell and must have accidentally apparated here. He also wore disgusting clothing that was definitely pre-used and several sizes too big., and knew nothing of magic or our world.”

“Despicable,” Lucius spat. “Must be Dumbledore’s doing, I’ll tell you. There is no way we can bring him to his muggle relatives, not after he started to learn about us. Besides, James Potter would hate it.”

“I agree,” Narcissa said. “But we cannot simply take the child. Dumbledore would obviously be looking for him, as well as the Ministry of Magic. And what about our friends?”

“What about them?”

“This is the boy who defeated our Lord, Lucius,” Narcissa whispered. “If Parkinson or any of the Averys know… if my sister finds out…”

“Then we can say that it is part of a plan,” Lucius said, the cogs in his head turning.

“What plan?”

“Now, please hear me out, Narcissa darling, please,” Lucius said. “Our world knows Harry as the son of James and Lily Potter, who died at the hands of our Dark Lord. He is also the Boy-Who-Lived, somehow surviving the Dark Lord’s Killing Curse leaving just that scar on his head. He disappeared from our world without a trace. We now know that Harry was living with _muggles_ of all people, certainly Dumbledore’s idea. He must have planned for Harry to be oblivious of who he is until his eleventh birthday, although he might have intended to keep the boy somewhere where we would not look. Well whatever the reason, there is no way he is going to return him to his muggle relatives. The boy will simply deny to if Draco showed him his room. I say that we keep Harry, raise him the same as we raise Draco. Teach him our values, and if our… friends ask, we could simply say this is all part of a ploy that will benefit the Dark Lord. That should keep some of them satisfied for a time being. Maybe raising him to be the next Dark Lord or something, we can finalize the details at a later date Narcissa.”

“It sounds good, but what about Dumbledore? If he finds the boy he will bring him back to those muggles,” Narcissa said.

“You’re right he will,” Lucius said. “As long as the boy remains a Potter.”

“Are you suggesting we adopt Harry?” Narcissa asked.

“Why not? James Potter wanted his son to be raised by Sirius Black if something happened to him, didn’t he?” Lucius asked. “I believe Sirius Black’s first cousin would be close enough considering the circumstances. And when Black sees the fruit of our labor, a balanced boy who knows the correct history of his lineage, he will undoubtedly be in our debt.”

“And it would help sort of fixing the… other problem Dumbledore caused,” Narcissa said.

“Exactly,” Lucius said. “I am sure Black would be grateful for clearing up that confusion. Besides, I am sure Draco would be grateful of having a little brother.”

“Yes I am sure he will,” Narcissa chuckled. “He was excited to bring Potter to his room.”

Lucius chuckled. “Well, we definitely cannot allow Potter to go back to his muggle relatives anymore.”

“But what about the Prophet? And the rest of the Ministry?” Narcissa asked. “Once word comes out that Harry Potter has been adopted by us they will want to know every detail.”

“You’re right, they will,” Lucius said. “Hopefully Millicent Bagnold will be understanding when she hears that we have Harry. After all the Minister did look over his parent’s trial a couple of years ago. And it was she who personally cleared me of all charges of being a Death Eater.”

“You’re right, but wouldn’t it be too suspicious; a family cleared of any suspicious of being Death Eaters suddenly found and decided to raise Harry Potter? If the Ministry agrees to keeping Harry here and not be sway by Dumbledore to return him to the muggle world, there will be some public outrage that he isn’t being raised in a more… friendly home,” Narcissa said. “The families who fought against the Dark Lord the entire time will argue and fight for their right to raise Harry.”

“Then we will simply have to work quickly,” Lucius said. “As soon as the boy’s last name is ‘Malfoy,’ he will be ours. Once he has our last name there is nothing legally Dumbledore or anyone else can do. Of course, there will be a backlash, but it should be easy enough to keep that away from Draco and the boy. And with time, the backlash will die down until everyone either accepts or are forced to accept that the boy is Harry Malfoy.”

“So we’re at an agreement?” Narcissa asked. “We’ll adopt the boy and raise him as our own?”

“Indeed, we’ll teach him everything he needs to know to prosper in our society and world. If Parkinson, Avery, or any of the old families ask, we will simply tell them we are raising Harry in the Dark Arts purposefully in order to serve the Dark Lord. If we give enough details, they will believe that we are raising him for the Dark Lord alone. As for Dumbledore… it will be a simple process of a couple of words to certain people in the Ministry and Gringotts. Of course, Narcissa, we are overlooking an important detail,” Lucius said.

“Which is?”

“Harry,” Lucius said. “Obviously we will have to ask him for his permission. But I am sure Draco can easily persuade him.”

“Easily,” Narcissa said smiling with her husband. “And with Harry as our child, there is no way Dumbledore could think of sending him back to his muggle relatives.”

“I wonder if it is possible to divorce Harry from that side,” Lucius mused, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Maybe,” Narcissa said. “It could be helpful with our little lie to Parkinson and Avery. Turning the Half-Blood into a Pureblood for the Dark Lord’s cause.” They shared a short laugh and stood up. “Should we bring the boys to us? It would be good for Harry to meet you.”

“I believe it should,” Lucius smiled. He took his cane and tapped it against the ground two times. A house-elf appeared and Lucius said, “Bring Harry and Draco to us, I wish to speak with them.” The house-elf bowed and disappeared. Lucius looked at his wife and said, “Let us meet our newest member of the family, shall we?”


	3. The Proposal

**The Third Chapter**

**The Proposal**

The Dursleys were slightly confused. Harry Potter was nowhere to be found. The boy was on the swing and now he was simply gone. They’ve looked around the park for an entire hour before frowning. “Where did that boy think he ran off to?” Uncle Vernon grumbled.

“I told you dad! Harry fell from the swings and was gone!” Dudley said.

Uncle Vernon looked crossed. “Freakish magic,” he grumbled. He turned to his wife and shrugged. “Well Petunia, we’ve done all we could, honestly. The boy could be anywhere. And it’s doubtful he’s coming back.”

“You’re right,” Aunt Petunia said. She looked at Dudley and said, “Get in the car Duddles, we’re going home and I’ll make whatever you want.”

“I want chocolate cake. With fudge!” Dudley demanded. His parents chuckled and agreed, sharing a smiling look at they looked at each other. The boy was out of their hair!

 

Harry ran after Draco down the staircase of the manor and into the drawing room. Harry stopped and stared at the tall man standing in front of him. He had straight long platinum hair that fell to his shoulders, the same silver eyes that Draco had, and a long aristocratic face. He was wearing a black suit with a robe over it; and was holding a cane with a silver handle. “Hello Harry Potter, my name is Lucius Malfoy,” the man said, bowing slightly. “My wife has informed me that you are a bit away from your house.”

“H-Hello Mr. Malfoy,” Harry said. “My name is Harry Potter, I live on Number 4 Private Drive and I am four years old.”

“Hmm. Well, Harry, can I ask you a couple of questions about your relatives? If you don’t mind?” Mr. Malfoy asked

“Umm… okay,” Harry said.

“Have a seat,” Mr. Malfoy said, pointing his cane to a sofa. Harry and Draco moved to the sofa and sat down. Mr. Malfoy and Mrs. Malfoy returned to their seats, Mr. Malfoy leaning forward as he looked at Harry. “Harry, would you tell us about how the muggles treated you?”

Harry frowned. “Badly I think. They made me do all these chores like vacuuming, cleaning dishes, gardening—when I do bad they punish me by sending me to my bed which is a cupboard under the stairs. Sometimes they’ve kept me there for days, sometimes more.”

“Do you know the longest time you’ve been in the cupboard?” Mr. Malfoy asked.

Harry thought for a moment and looked at his fingers, counting silently. “Umm… I can’t count that high,” he said.

Lucius and Narcissa frowned and looked at each other before turning back to Harry. “Do they feed you during these times?”

“No they don’t,” Harry said.

“How about when you are not being punished?”

“Small plates, not as much as Dudley who gets loads,” Harry said.

“And your clothing?”

“All Dudley’s first,” Harry said.

“And Dumbledore would allow this horrible—Harry, did your Aunt and Uncle every showed you any type of love or caring?” Lucius asked.

Harry’s face fell as big welts of tears watered his emerald eyes, making the green shimmer. “No they don’t.”

The Malfoys all frowned. “Harry… I have a proposal for you, you can think of it for a couple of days, but I will need an answer as soon as possible, understand?”

Harry frowned and shook his head. “What’s a pro-po-sal?” he asked, separating the word into its syllables to correctly pronounce it.

“A deal, an agreement. I’m going to tell you about something that my wife and I want to happen, and it is up to you to say yes or no,” Mr. Malfoy said. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry nodded.

“Good,” Lucius smiled. “My wife and I want to adopt you, we want you to be part of our family. We would be your parents, and Draco would be your brother. You would be raised the same way we raise Draco, and make sure that you’ll grow into the… best wizard that you can be. Obviously you’ll be loved and cared for, but I think it would be benefi—better for you to experie—see how we will treat you rather than Narcissa and I simply telling you.”

“You want me… to be part of your family?” Harry asked slowly, his eyes going wide like saucers as he stared at the two adults.

“We do, yes,” Mr. Malfoy said. “We want you to be part of our family Harry. We knew your father, and your godfather, if anything should have happened to your father he wanted you to be raised by your godfather. However due to circumstances out of our control… you somehow went to your muggle relatives.”

“I have a godfather?” Harry gasped. “Where is he? Who is he?”

Lucius and Narcissa looked at each other for a moment. “Your godfather,” Mrs. Malfoy said, “is my cousin. He is… he is currently in a place that is very hard to come out of. However, we, myself, my husband, and Draco, are the closest to what your father wanted.”

“Besides, your father and godfather had a very close relationship,” Lucius said. “They basically grew up together.”

Harry stared at Mr. Malfoy. He could have lived with his godfather who was close to his father? Why didn’t he go to his godfather? Why did whoever brought him to his muggle relatives do that? Could it be Dumbledore?

“They did?” Harry asked.

“Oh yes, but we can talk more about that later,” Mr. Malfoy said. “You don’t need to give us an answer now—“

“But I already have one!” Harry jumped in his seat. “Yes! I want to stay with Draco. Anywhere is better than the Dursleys…”

“Are you sure?” Mr. Malfoy asked. “This is a very important decision Harry.”

Harry looked at Draco and nodded. “Yes I’m sure,” he said.

Lucius closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose. “Alright then Harry,” he said opening his eyes again. “Though unofficial at this time, let me be the first to say ‘Welcome.’ So, welcome to the family Harry.”

Draco jumped up and grabbed Harry’s hands. “This is amazing,” he gushed. “Not only will Blaise be jealous that I met and dressed the Boy-Who-Lived but now he is my brother!”

Harry smiled with Draco as the blonde boy slipped off of the bed and helped the small boy off. Harry looked at Lucius and asked, “Can you tell me more… about my dad?”

“Of course Harry, Narcissa and I will tell you everything we know,” Mr. Malfoy smiled. “But that can come later. Go play with Draco.”

“Okay,” Harry smiled, running off with Draco back to his room.

Lucius smirked and turned to Narcissa. “This was easier than I thought it would be,” he said. “Harry’s home life, by the sound of it, must have been worse than either of us imagined.”

“You’re right,” Narcissa said. “It makes me wonder if Dumbledore knew about it, and if he did how he could allow the boy to go through such hardships.”

“I’m sure the old man knows, he seems to know everything,” Lucius sighed. He looked at his pocket watch and tsked. “Already eleven,” he said. “Mrs. Zabini is still coming over for afternoon tea, I take it?”

“Yes she is,” Narcissa said. “She and her son are coming over. I think she wanted to tell me about her new husband.”

“This is the seventh one, isn’t he?” Lucius couldn’t help but chuckle.

“It is,” Narcissa said. “You would think that men would get a hint by her keeping her first husband’s name but, it seems that they are clueless.”

“Speaking of clueless men,” Lucius said already making his way to the fireplace. “Have you seen the way our son and Harry were holding hands?”

“Yes I did, your point?” Narcissa asked.

“Well,” Lucius smirked. “It would be rather… coincidental if the boy ended up exactly like his father.”

“And amusing,” Narcissa smiled. “I would dare say James would have been proud and highly amused.”

“And his godfather would simply die of laughter,” Lucius said, a small snicker escaping his lips. He shook his head and said, “I will see you later, Narcissa, I am sure the Minister will be wondering where I am. That, and there are some adoption papers I need to start filling out.”

“Of course dear, I’ll make sure the elves have dinner ready by the time you are home,” Narcissa said. She kissed her husband on the cheek and watched as he walked into green flames in the fireplace.

 

Old Mrs. Figg just finished feeding her four part-kneazle cats their lunch. She looked up from her window just as the Dursley’s car was pulling into the driveway. She watched as the fat walrus of a man, his skinny long-faced wife, and their ball of a son got out of the car followed by Dudley’s friends. Mrs. Figg waited and continued to watch, but when the last of Dudley’s friends exited the car he closed the door and walked up the small garden path to Mrs. Dursley who closed the door behind them. Mrs. Figg continued to watch buy frowned. Where is Potter? She continued to watch but the car didn’t move, and it looked like there was nobody in the car either. “This is bad, Mr. Tibbles, very bad,” she said looking down at the nearest cat. “I’ll have to tell Dumbledore immediately.”

She moved from the window and started looking around her house. “Where is that tin he gave me?” she muttered as the old Squib searched far and wide, turning over cushions, digging out drawers, and opening pantry doors. “It was only four years,” she continued to mutter to herself. “I can’t believe I lost the tin already, maybe I’ve placed it in a place the cats can’t get to it.” She continued to look, finally finding the covered small tin five minutes later in her bathroom under a box of soap. With the tin in hand she returned to her small fireplace and opened the tin can. Placing it to the side, she spent ten minutes trying to make a fire while batting away her curious part-kneazle cats who walked towards her.

Feeling the heat of the fire that sparked, Mrs. Figg took a poker and stirred the logs until the fire grew to a raging flame. She turned to pick up the tin can and muttered, “How much am I supposed to put in again?” She took a fist-full of the green powder in the tin and threw it into the fire, the orange flame turning green instantly. “Hogwarts, Dumbledore’s office,” she said before sticking her head into the flames. “Dumbledore? Dumbledore?” she called out.

She heard footsteps and soon Dumbledore’s figure was kneeling in front of the fireplace. “Arabella Figg, Is anything the matter?”

I don’t know, maybe,” Mrs. Figg said. “The Dursleys just came back and Harry wasn’t with them. I mean I did not see him come out of the car, or go into their home.”

“Harry Potter is not with his relatives?” Dumbledore asked.

“No, I think the boy might be missing, Albus,” Mrs. Figg said.

“This is troubling news Arabella,” Dumbledore said. “I will look into it immediately. In the meantime don’t worry, I am sure that he will be found before the day is out.”

“If you say so Albus,” Mrs. Figg said. There was a noise and she said, “I have to go, one of my cats must have knocked something over.”

“Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Arabella. Good-bye,” Dumbledore said. Dumbledore frowned as Mrs. Figg’s head disappeared in the fire. He got to his feet and returned to his desk. Harry Potter’s missing? How could that be? Where could the boy gone to? The world is a dangerous place for a four-year-old. Dumbledore had to find Harry fast before anything happened to him, before anyone else finds him first. But he needed to keep this quiet. No need to cause the whole wizarding world to panic. Pulling out a piece of parchment, he wrote a letter for Alastor Moody and walked to Fawkes the phoenix who sat in his cage. “I know you do not deliver letters, but this letter needs to reach Alastor immediately and he would shoot down any owl.” He tied the letter to the phoenix’s leg and walked to open a window. With the window swung open, Fawkes spread out its wings and flew out of Dumbledore’s office.

“The boy better be found quickly,” Dumbledore muttered to himself, “he needs to be returned to his relatives.”

 

“Narcissa! So good to see you again,” a beautiful woman smiled. She was tall like Narcissa and extremely beautiful. She had ebony skin, the darkest Harry wanted to see and he wanted to point it out but Draco stopped him, as she and Mrs. Malfoy kissed each other’s cheeks as they hugged. Next to the woman was a boy who stood taller than Draco or Harry. His skin reminded Harry of chocolate (again Draco stopped him from pointing this out) and he had hazel eyes and short black hair. The boy was wearing robes like Harry and Draco and was looking at Mrs. Malfoy as if waiting to say hello.

“It is so good to see you as well Delilah,” Narcissa said. She and the woman let go and she turned to the boy. “Hello Blaise Zabini.”

“Hello Mrs. Malfoy, it is nice to see you again,” Blaise said holding out his hand. Mrs. Malfoy took it and Blaise kissed her hand. Narcissa chuckled. “He takes after his father, I see.”

“Yes, he seems to be taking to his Italian roots,” Mrs. Zabini said. “But don’t get me wrong, Narcissa, my Blaise will be the most powerful African wizard yet.”

“I am very sure,” Narcissa said. “Now, I want you both to meet someone,” her voice became prideful as she swept her arm towards Draco and Harry, who were standing in the doorway. Draco stood tall and rigid while Harry slouched a tiny bit, apprehensive about the new people. “You both know my son Draco, obviously, but I would be proud to introduce you both to my newest son: Harry Potter.”

“Potter?” Mrs. Zabini said looking at Harry. “That’s James’s boy? I thought he disappeared when James died.”

“He did… he recently just appeared in our gardens,” Narcissa said. “Accidental Magic that turned very fortunate for both us and Harry.”

“Hmm. …” Mrs. Zabini said, examining Harry. Harry felt extremely nervous and seemed to shrink under Mrs. Zabini’s eyes. “He looks exactly like James,” she said. “Expect his eyes. … at least they’re pretty.”

“Harry,” Draco whispered, “introduce yourself. Harry nodded and took a step forward. “H-Hello,” he said in his small voice, “my name is Harry Potter.”

“I am Delilah Zabini,” Mrs. Zabini said. “Your father and I knew each other. Unlike Narcissa here, I was young enough to be in Hogwarts with him.”

“Hogwarts?” Harry asked, his face furrowing. “What’s that?”

“It’s a school, obviously, some would say the best wizarding school, but I would disagree,” Mrs. Zabini said. She turned to Narcissa, “The boy doesn’t know about Hogwarts?”

“He doesn’t know anything about our world,” Narcissa said. “Draco, what have you told him?”

“I showed him my toys and told him the story that you always told me,” Draco said.

“So nothing,” Mrs. Zabini said. She looked down at Blaise and said, “Go educate Potter while the women talk.”

“Yes mother,” Blaise said. He moved from his mother towards. “Hello, I am Blaise Zabini.”

“I’m Harry Potter,” Harry said offering his hand awkwardly. Blaise took it and shook it before bringing the hand to his lips and kissing it, causing the young four-year old Potter to blush.

“Stop it, stop it, he’s _my_ brother,” Draco said forcing Blaise to let go of Harry’s hand. “I found him first Zabini.”

“Whatever you say Malfoy,” Blaise smirked. He looked at Harry and winked. “Let’s go to Draco’s room.”

“Okay…” Harry said following both boys out of the drawing room. They climbed the stairs and walked into Draco’s room. Blaise walked towards the center of the room and crossed his arms. “So…” Harry said awkwardly, “what do you want to do? Draco was showing me how to fly on the broom.”

“No, mother told me to ed-u-cate you so I will,” Blaise said. “So tell me everything Draco told you.”

“I can do magic!” Harry said immediately. “I can fly brooms and that there was a person named the Dark Lord… he killed my parents and gave me my scar.” Harry’s voice went soft as he pointed to the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. That’s all I know. …”

“Well… uhh Hogwarts is a school we’ll all be going to when we turn eleven,” Blaise said. “That’s one more than all our fingers,” he spread his fingers out and wiggled them.

“I can count up to eleven,” Harry huffed.

“Ohh… okay,” Blaise said. “Anyway, there are four Houses in Hogwarts. Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin—“

“Both my parents were in Slytherin,” Draco said proudly, his chest swelling. “In fact, my entire family was in Slytherin.”

“Well so was my mother,” Blaise said.

“Was my dad?” Harry asked, looking between them. Both boys stopped and looked at Harry frowning. “We don’t know,” Draco shrugged.

“Anyway…” Blaise said. “When we get older everything becomes more fun. We’ll get our wands, we get to make potions—“

“Get to? What’s the matter Zabini? Mommy’s not letting you do that?” Draco said crossing his arms. He turned to Harry and said, “I already make potions.”

“That toy isn’t making potions!” Blaise said pointing to the small cauldron sitting in the corner.

“Yes it is,” Draco said. “All I have to do is follow the pictures! Watch!” He went over to the cauldron and picked up a big book. He walked over to Harry with the book and opened it. “See?” he said.

On the pages were big easy to see pictures as well as words that Harry couldn’t read. Sometimes there were two pictures of the same thing next to each other, and a moving picture of a non-descriptive man stirring the pot one way or another. They also had words that began with the same letters. “I simply follow the pictures before I learn how to read,” Draco said smugly.

“Learn? You mean you still don’t know?” Blaise laughed. He looked at Harry and said with the same smug confidence as Draco, “I know how to read some words.”

“Oh yeah? Then read something from here,” Draco said, the four-year-old shoving the book in Blaise’s hands. Blaise just gave him a nasty look before looking into the book. “This word next to the guy stirring says ‘clo—ck…wiii---se’. clockwise!”

“That’s so cool,” Harry gasped looking at the book. “What word says that?” he asked.

“This one,” Blaise pointed. Harry looked and stared at the word for a while. “Cloooockwiise,” Harry sounded out. “Cllloooock weiiise.”

“No, no: Clockwise,” Blaise said. “Clock-wise. Two words smashed together.”

“Clock…wise.”

“Good now put them together,” Blaise said.

“Clockweese… clockwiiise… clockwise… clockwise!” Harry grinned. “Draco! Clockwise!”

“Yeah, yeah clockwise,” Draco grumbled. Harry saw that he was clearly jealous and stepped towards him. “Anything the matter?”

“Nothing Potter, just spend time with Zabini,” Draco said.

Harry frowned and sat down next to Draco. Draco stared at him confused before Harry pulled him down to the floor as well. “I never had anybody,” Harry said. “The Dursleys made sure I’m always alone. …But now I have you Draco. You heard your dad, we’re going to be brothers now. … I’m going to have a fam—family.”

“You’re right,” Draco said, looking the small Potter. “You are my family. My brother.”

“Yeah,” Harry smiled. “Brothers.”

Blaise stood there awkwardly as Harry and Draco just sat and stared at each other. Harry broke the silence first as he stood up and looked between the two boys. “Want to play a game?” he asked Blaise. “Draco was going to show me his toys when you got here.”

“Okay Harry,” Blaise said, grateful that the awkward moment, for him, was over. Draco stood up and stretched. “Okay, fine… Harry here are my stuffed animals,” he said walking over to the wall where a shelf full of stuffed animals are. “I also have toy wands that shoot color sparks out.”

“Awesome,” Harry breathed out. He looked at the strange creatures on the shelf. “I know none of them,” he said.

“That one is a dragon,” Blaise said, pointing to a stuffed green dragon sleeping on the shelf.

“They’re mine, I’ll show Harry them!” Draco said. He smiled at Harry and said, “This one is a dragon. The one next to it is a Chim—Chimera. Which is hard to say but looks really cool!” Draco pointed to a creature with the body of a goat but the head of a great lion and a snake as its tail. It roar silently as if breathing fire. “Mother wouldn’t let me have the one that breaths actual fire,” Draco pouted.

“This is a giant snake called a… Basilisk,” Draco said pronouncing the word slowly and  pointing to a green curled up stuffed-snake that looked to be five feet tall. “Say hi to it Harry.”

“Umm hi,” Harry said looking at the stuffed-snake. The stuffed-animal did nothing, not even look at him.

“If you ever see a real one Harry, never, never, never, never, never, ever look at it in the eyes,” Draco said confidently. “Father told me that in a story.”

“Huh.”

“These are…” Draco spent the next five minutes showing off his stuffed animals, showing Harry animals he never knew existed or thought of. When Draco was done he shown Harry the toy wands, they looked to be made of real wood, and the boys spent the afternoon sending sparks in the sky, Harry mesmerized by the rainbow of colors his wand shot out. He couldn’t believe that he was doing this: making sparks coming out of a wand; standing in a bedroom that was two sizes the size of the Dursley’s first floor; having fun with two boys who looks to actually enjoy his company—even having fun in general! Harry never thought that he would have fun! He just assumed, and accepted, that his life would be a long, hard life of being basically the Dursley’s maid and scapegoat. That he would be the person Dudley would always blame when he doesn’t want to get in trouble. But now, now that he knew he was a wizard and am going to be living with Draco in this huge manor… Harry felt like so many doors were opened.

Blaise had to leave a few hours later. He waved cheerfully at Harry when he said his goodbye. Harry smiled and waved back. The funny looking man that Draco reminded him was a house-elf appeared in front of them and told the two boys that dinner was ready, and Mr. Malfoy was already waiting for them.

“Harry, excellent news,” Mr. Malfoy said. “I have begun the adoption papers needed for you to join our family. I’ve asked a couple of people I know in the Ministry to help in our case, not to worry they are trustworthy and will not sell out the fact that we have you. Tomorrow an official will come here to make sure we have the correct accommodations for you—you will be getting your own room naturally, but until that is ready you will sleep with Draco if that is alright with you. Not to worry though, your room will be directly across from Draco and will look similar enough, your own personal taste will be added along the years, naturally, but we can worry about that when the time comes. For now, just know that the papers are set and soon you will be a Malfoy. Any questions Harry?”

Harry stared at Lucius, honestly only understanding about half of what Mr. Malfoy said, but he believe he’d gotten the gist of what he was saying. Harry shook his head. “No Mr. Malfoy… thank you.”

“Of course,” Mr. Malfoy said. “Now tomorrow, I will tell you the rules of the house; not to worry, they will be fairer than what you have lived with. For tonight, however, simply enjoy dinner and take comfort in the fact that you will never see those muggles again.”

“Yes Mr. Malfoy,” Harry said, grinning behind his fork. He looked down at the food. He couldn’t begin to describe how good the food was. It was the best he had ever tasted, and by how the Malfoys react to it, it’s like they eat food like this every day! Could such a life be possible? Harry couldn’t begin to fathom it. He just continued to eat silently, copying Draco as everyone seemed to be eating a certain way.

“Good,” Mr. Malfoy smiled before returning to his dinner.

When dinner was over, Lucius took off his robes and rolled his sleeves as he retired to the drawing room with a bottle of scotch and two empty tumblers. “Boys you go take your baths now and come back here for a story,” Lucius said. “Harry… I am afraid to ask but do you know how to take a bath?”

“Yes sir, I do, though the Dursleys barely allow me one,” Harry said.

Lucius frowned. “Well Harry, in this home we bathe every night. You best get used to that.”

“I will, thank you Mr. Malfoy,” Harry smiled. He was going to take a bath! He and Draco excused themselves and Draco acted as Harry’s guide to the bathroom. The bathroom was bigger than Harry expected. A huge bathtub was built into the floor and reminded Harry of a small pool. Draco casually took his clothes off, throwing them every place, and walked over to the many golden faucets that sat at the edge of the bath/pool and turned some of them on. Pink bubbles and foam filled the tub along with warm water. Draco waited until the bath was full before turning off the faucets and sitting on the edge, slipping in. The water only seemed to go up a foot, foot and a half.

Draco turned to Harry and said, “Come on Harry, get in! Don’t worry the house-elves are watching so we’ll won’t get hurt!”

“They’re watching us?” Harry asked, looking around quickly as if expecting to see millions of peepholes with tennis-ball sized eyeballs. Draco laughed and said, “Not that way stupid! They’re watching us through magic! If anything happens to us they’ll know; they can’t see us!”

“Oh… … okay,” Harry said. “Can you… turn around?” he asked shyly.

Draco huffed and crossed his arms. “Fine,” he said.

With Draco’s back to him, Harry undressed, placing his clothes in a small pile so he could wear them again after he is done with his bath and slipped into the foam-and-bubble filled bathtub. “Okay… you can look,” Harry said when he was certain Draco couldn’t see his naughty bits.

Draco turned around and rolled his eyes. “Really Harry, Blaise and I take baths together all the time when he stays over,” he said.

“Yeah but…” Harry blushed. He looked down and whispered, “You’re not supposed to see other people’s… you know.”

“Then why look?” Draco smirked. He wadded towards Harry and lifted his arms, which was covered with pink bubbles and white foam. “You can barely see anything in here!” he said a bit dramatically.

Harry just nodded and relaxed against the tub’s wall, enjoying the feeling of the warm water surrounding his body. He slowly sat down until the foot-high water reached the bottom of his chest and gathered the soapy foam around him till it covered his body showing only his neck and head. He looked at Draco and watched as the little Malfoy, standing, pulled up the soapy foam, rubbing it on his body, before sitting down quickly and standing up again, causing the water to splash and make small waves. Harry stood up, his back to Draco, and mimicked the boy: rubbing the soapy foam on his body making sure that everywhere he could reach was suddy from his bum to the back of his neck; then he sat down into the water before standing again. The boys did this a few times and Harry looked down at the water to see that it was slowly losing bubbles and foam and the water around him began to become dirty. He lift his legs one at a time and cleaned them before looking over to Draco. How were they going to do their hair?

Draco snapped his fingers and closed his eyes. A house-elf appeared with a bottle of shampoo. The elf made the bottle hover over Draco’s head and tipped it, the shampoo falling slowly onto Draco’s head. Draco rubbed his hair around with the shampoo until his platinum-blond hair was covered and then placed his hands under the water as the house-elf let some water levitate and gently fall onto Draco’s head, washing the shampoo away. When the last of the water fell on Draco’s head, the boy leaned back until his hair was in the water and shook his head. Harry shrugged and closed his eyes tightly as he tried to snap his fingers. “Umm Draco…” he said.

“Yeah Harry?”

“How do I snap my fingers?” Harry asked.

“Oh… I’ll show you later,” Draco said. He snapped his fingers again and Harry, whose eyes were still squinted close, felt the cold shampoo squirt onto his head. He rubbed it in and continued to rub and massage his scalp as the shampoo stopped and the water began. When he felt the water flow stop, Harry leaned back cautiously. “I’ll help you,” Draco said. Harry heard Draco wadding through the water and felt hands on his stomach and back. “I’ll hold you okay. Put the back your head in and shake,” Draco ordered.

Harry leaned and shook his head wildly when it was in the water. Draco laughed and helped Harry to a standing position. He opened his eyes and looked at Draco, who was still giggling. “Thanks,” he breathed.

“Any time.”

The boys smiled and climbed out of the tub. Draco led Harry to the towels. They dried off, house-elves appearing to help them. Harry wrapped a towel that was too big for him over his shoulders, covering his body and turned to where he kept the clothes only to see them gone! “Draco! Your clothes!” Harry gasped.

“What about them?” Draco asked.

“They’re gone! I put the clothes right there!” Harry pointed to the empty space of floor where he placed the clothes he was wearing. Draco looked at him confused. “The elves took them, what do you think happened?” he said.

“But what am I going to wear?” Harry asked.

“These pajamas of course,” Draco said. He pointed to two small pajama pants and shirts that laid neatly folded in a small cubby. Draco pulled one out and held it out. “This one is yours,” he said giving it to Harry. It was a light blue color with cartoonish snakes that silently slithered and moved around the pants and shirt. Harry took them but looked at Draco, as if asking for permission to wear them. “Well? Get dressed! Father isn’t going to wait all night,” Draco snapped.

Harry jumped and hurried to get his pajamas on, his mind going back to the Dursleys whenever he was late. He hoped the Malfoys didn’t do spankings. Draco dressed in a plain silver pajama with a griffon on it. Draco told Harry to just leave the towels on the floor but Harry, out of habits that he developed quickly at the Dursley’s house, folded his towel up and placed it in the cubby while Draco’s just lied on the floor.

Both of them made their way downstairs and Draco showed Harry where the drawing room was, where Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy were sitting, each holding a tumbler filled with whiskey as they talked about their day. “Here they are, took longer than I expected,” Mrs. Malfoy said.

“I had to show Harry how to wash his hands,” Draco said.

“Well boys come over here,” Mr. Malfoy said. He stood from his armchair and moved to a long sofa with black cushions. He took out his wand and pointed it at the bookshelf. “ _Accio,_ ” he drawled. A book zoomed out of the bookshelf and landed on Mr. Malfoy’s lap. He picked it up and looked at Harry. “ _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ ,” he read aloud. “Draco likes this book in particular. He begs myself and Narcissa to read it to him every night.”

“No I don’t!” Draco blushed, causing Harry to laugh.

“Well… let’s see… which story did we do last night Draco?” Mr. Malfoy asked, opening the book. “Ah yes, we’re on ‘The Fountain of Fair Fortune.’ Well, Draco, Harry, listen well. I will only read this once.

“’High on a hill in an enchanted garden, enclosed by tall walls and protected by strong magic, flowed the Fountain of Fair Fortune. …’”

Harry listened intently as Mr. Malfoy read the story to he and Draco. The two boys were sitting on the black-cushioned sofa next to each other. Harry felt his eyes drifting as Mr. Malfoy read, and his head started to nod tiredly. He leaned to his right and rested on Draco, his head going on Draco’s shoulder, which the boy allowed. Harry found himself drifting lightly as he listened of the trials of the three witches and the knight as they worked together to reach the fountain. By the time Mr. Malfoy finished the story, Harry found that his body felt heavy with sleep. Draco moved his shoulder and Harry was jostled awake. They said their good-nights to Mr. Malfoy and followed Mrs. Malfoy out of the drawing room, up the stairs, and into Draco’s room.

“You’ll be sleeping with Draco tonight, but I am sure you will not mind,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “If memory serves me, your father liked to sleep in beds with boys his age—especially your godfather. Hopefully tomorrow Lucius will be finished with the paperwork and we can begin furnishing your own room.”

“Thank you Mrs. Malfoy…” Harry slurred; it took all of his energy to even keep his eyes open.

“Your welcome Harry. You’re back where you belong,” Mrs. Malfoy said. She kissed Draco’s forehead and said, “Good night Draco, Harry.”

“Mrs. Malfoy… can I ask you something?” Harry asked, rubbing his eyes.

“What is it?”

“In Hogwarts—yawn—what house was my dad in?” Harry asked as he climbed into Draco’s bed.

“Gryffindor,” Mrs. Malfoy answered. “The same as your godfather. But don’t worry about that, we have years to tell you more about your father, and Hogwarts. Now get in bed boys.” Draco climbed into bed as Harry burrowed himself into the covers. The bed was so warm! So soft! So comfy! So much better than the lumpy old mattress that the Dursleys gave him. Mrs. Malfoy waved her wand and a couple of the stuffed animals on the shelf floated towards the bed. “Draco likes to sleep with his toys,” Mrs. Malfoy said, “so don’t be afraid to borrow one. After all, he is now your older brother. Good-night boys.”

“Good-night Mother.”

“Goodnight Mrs. Malfoy.”

The door closed behind Mrs. Malfoy and the candles in Draco’s room were snuffed out. Harry couldn’t help but wondered why the Malfoys didn’t use light bulbs. The moonlight shone through the windows and Harry turned to see Draco holding the stuffed chimera. Harry reached for the stuffed basilisk and pulled it to him. “Good-night Harry,” Draco yawned.

“’Night Draco… and thank you again,” Harry whispered, his eyes heavy. Draco muttered something incomprehensible as he fell asleep, his arms full of the stuffed toy. Harry’s arms filled with the basilisk as the stuffed toy seemed to come to life and curled its body around Harry’s. Feeling comfortable, Harry allowed the soft bed and warm covers to surround him as he drifted into the most peaceful sleep he ever had in his life.


	4. Harry Becomes a Malfoy

**The Fourth Chapter**

**Harry Becomes a Malfoy**

Harry woke up feeling completely warm and comfortable. He opened his eyes slowly to see a big stuffed snake coiled around his body, the head resting on his chest which he is hugging. Harry stared at the snake for a long while as memories of yesterday came back. He was away from the Dursleys, away from Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, away from Dudley. He might never have to see Number 4 Private Drive ever again! He now lives in Malfoy Manor, the blond-haired boy next to him is going to be his brother! He’s a wizard!

Harry reached his glasses and returned to hugging the big snake as he turned to look at his bedmate. He wondered briefly if snakes could talk. Draco was still sleeping, holding the same chimera from last night. His mouth was opened to make a little ‘O’ shape. Harry just stared at him, watching the little Malfoy sleep, before turning around to look out a window. The sun hasn’t even risen yet but Harry could see peaks of pink on the horizon. He wondered what time it was as he turned on the bed again. What would the Malfoys make him do, he wondered. Will they have him do chores like the Dursleys? He hoped not. The Dursley’s chores took all day and Harry wanted to play with Draco more.

He looked down at the stuffed snake. “Umm… can you let go please?” he asked it. The stuffed toy seemed to have been sleeping as it lifted its head to stare at Harry before shaking its head and resting back on Harry’s chest. With nothing else to do Harry huffed and took off his glasses. He was a little tired still, might as well go back to sleep.

 

Dumbledore paced his office frantically. The boy has been gone for eighteen hours. From what he could put together, Harry Potter was at the park near his home with his family yesterday morning. He was on the swing sets before falling off and Apparating. Where the boy apparated to Dumbledore could not say. He and Moody searched the entire neighborhood but found nothing. Not even probing the Dursley’s minds while they slept revealed anything. The farthest he got was watching the boy apparate as he fell.

Dumbledore needed to find the boy, he needed to return him to his relatives. What if somebody finds the boy? What if a wizard finds the boy… somebody from the magical community. No… that would be awful, too awful, Dumbledore would never allow that. “I’ve got to find him,” Dumbledore said. Perhaps he should start looking through wizarding families. But if the boy was found by a wizarding family, then surely the _Daily Prophet_ would hear about it by now. He supposed he should wait till his copy arrived but… if it is true, and an article about Potter appears in the morning Prophet, then all those years planning, all those years correcting lives would be wasted. No, he couldn’t have that, he would not accept that. As long as the boy doesn’t appear on the Daily Prophet, then all would be fine. And his life’s work for the past ten years wouldn’t have been wasted.

An owl appeared in the distance and Dumbledore waited in anticipation as the bird flown towards the castle. He opened the window and allowed the owl to land on his desk, dropping the Daily Prophet, before flying away. Dumbledore closed the window and turned his attention to the newspaper. He snatched it and quickly rifled through the pages, his eyes scanning the headline for Potter’s name. A feeling of relief flooded him when he couldn’t find Harry Potter’s name, or any indications to Potter at all. He closed the newspaper and sank into his chair. Potter is still missing, that much is obvious, but at least he can still be found by Dumbledore. Feeling some confidence by that fact, Dumbledore stood from his chair and took the newspaper in his arm. It is breakfast time for the castle, and he wanted to make sure his students were all keeping up with their studies.

 

Harry woke up again two hours later. The toy snake was no longer on him, it slithered back to the shelf where it sat, and Draco was already dressed and rummaging through his dresser. Harry sat up in the bed and watched Draco.

“Useless house-elves, picking the wrong clothes,” Draco grumbled as he pulled out a pair of briefs and placed them on a folded green long-sleeved shirt. He then pulled out some dark pants and a pair of socks. Picking up the pile of clothes, Draco turned to the bed to see Harry watching him. “You’re up!” he smiled. “I got more clothes for you to wear! The darn elves forgot to get your clothes out!”

Harry yawned and climbed out of Draco’s bed. “They do that every day?” he asked. “Get your clothes ready?”

“Get my clothes, clean the room, make the food, they do everything,” Draco said shrugging. “The elves work so we can play!”

“Ohh… so I won’t be doing chores?” Harry asked.

“Chores? Why would you want to do chores?” Draco scoffed.

“I don’t!” Harry said quickly. “It’s just that the Dursleys… they made me do chores all day.”

“Well, we have house-elves for that,” Draco said. “Come on! Get dressed so we can go to breakfast. Father hates it when people are late.”

“Okay Draco,” Harry said. Draco turned around and Harry took off his pajamas only to struggle for ten minutes as he tried to dress himself. It was weird wearing clothes that fit. Usually they were too big but now for the second day in a row the clothes fitted perfectly and warmed him up on this particularly chilly fall day. When they were done the two began to walk down the corridor that led to the main foyer and set of stairs. Harry looked around, seeing candleholders bolted to the walls. “Draco? I have a question,” Harry said.

“What is it Harry?” Draco asked.

“Why don’t you guys have lightbulbs?” he asked. “Why do you use these candles?”

Draco’s brow furrowed. “What are light bulbs?”

“You know! They’re these… things that you turn and on make light! They use elec—elect—electrickcity!”

“What in the world is electrickcity?” Draco asked.

“They’re the thing that makes the lights work! And the tv and the fridge and everything!” Harry said, raising his hands in the air.

Draco’s furrow deepened. “What are those things?” he asked. “Are those muggle things? We don’t have them here.”

“Don’t have them here?” Harry gasped. “But why not?”

“Because we’re superior. We have light-making spells for those things Harry,” Draco said. “Why would we need electrickcity?”

“I don’t know… it’s just so weird!” Harry said. “Like you have to use these candles for light! And use the sun for most of it too!”

“We use more than candles and the sun, Harry,” Draco chuckled. “Father will show you, of course.”

“Okay,” Harry frowned, not sure if he was convinced. How could a place function without lightbulbs? They walked down the stairs and into the dining room where Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy were already in sitting in their seats and reading a newspaper.

“Ah boys, hello,” Mr. Malfoy said looking from his newspaper. “Harry, today you and I need to head to the Ministry. Don’t worry, it is just to finalize the adoption and set about your new name. Obviously, you will be taking the Malfoy surname as our son, but Narcissa and I were thinking of a way for you to keep your last name of Potter, as a way to honor your father of course. How would the name Harry Potter-Malfoy sound? You would still have Potter, but your last name legally would be Malfoy. Would that be acceptable?”

“So my name… would be Harry Malfoy… but I would keep Potter?” Harry asked, slightly confused.

“Exactly,” Mr. Malfoy said. “Think of it like a middle name.”

“But I already have a middle name,” Harry said. “It’s James!”

“Then your full name would be Harry James Potter-Malfoy,” Mr. Malfoy said. “It is a simple manner of adding our name and connecting the two with a hyphen. Simple stuff, and nothing you need to worry about.”

“Okay Mr. Malfoy,” Harry said.

“And afterwards we’ll need to pay a visit to Gringotts, check on your vaults and make sure that I have parental control until you come of age,” Mr. Malfoy said.

“What does that mean?” Harry asked, not understanding anything of what Mr. Malfoy said.

“Well, I will just be overlooking your family vault, that is where your money is, and make sure that all Potter heirlooms and artifacts are accounted for,” Mr. Malfoy said. “The money will be yours to use, of course, but I will be holding certain restrictions naturally. Just to make sure that you do not make any silly purchases and drain your vault before you even step a foot into Hogwarts.”

“Okay…” Harry said, still not knowing what Mr. Malfoy was talking about. What is this talk about money? Harry had no money, and what would he need for it? He has Draco and his toys! He looked at this plate in front of him and saw eggs, bacon, toast—more food for breakfast than he ever thought of or seen. He guessed that the Malfoys don’t do cereal. Not that he complained. The eggs were delicious, bacon was addicting, and the strange juice that was poured for him was tasty.

“Father? Can I go to the Ministry with you and Harry?” Draco asked.

“No you may not,” Mr. Malfoy said. “Harry and I are going there for business, not for a simple tour. Besides Draco, your mother will need your help today. Don’t you Narcissa?”

“Of course,” Narcissa said. “Draco you’ll be accompanying me to Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley buying furniture and toys for Harry’s room.”

“Oh, okay!” Draco said he looked at Harry and said, “I’ll make sure make him the best room for a future Slytherin!”

“Slytherin?” Mrs. Malfoy chuckled. “You’re saying that Harry will be a Slytherin?”

“Of course,” Draco nodded.

“Even though his father and Godfather were in Gryffindor… interesting,” Mrs. Malfoy chuckled.

“Harry will be Slytherin,” Draco said, as if by just him saying it will cause his statement to become factual. “He’ll fit nowhere else.”

Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy shared a knowing look before turning back to the boys. “Whatever House Harry is in does not matter today,” Mr. Malfoy said, “So focus on what we have to do today Draco, then you and Harry can fantasize on what House Harry will be in.”

“Okay Father,” Draco said.

Mr. Malfoy looked at Harry. “I’ve arranged for a Ministry car to pick us up in thirty minutes. They will take us directly to the Ministry.”

Harry nodded, his mouth too full of food to answer. He at least knew not to talk with your mouth full. Not that Dudley didn’t care for that rule. He swallowed his food and looked at Draco. “You have cars but don’t have electrickcity?”

“I don’t even know what this electrickcity is,” Draco said.

“It is pronounced ‘electricity’ boys, and that is useless in our world, Harry,” Mr. Malfoy said. “We wizards have other means for what muggles use electricity for. You’ll find that our methods are not only more effective, but simpler as well.”

“Okay…” Harry said. “Mr. Malfoy, I have a question. Do I have to call you Father like Draco?”

“It would be preferable, actually,” Mr. Malfoy said.

“Okay… father,” Harry said, the word feeling weird on his tongue.

Mr. Malfoy gave an approving smile before continuing eating his breakfast. When breakfast was over, the boys was told to brush their teeth and Harry had to meet with Mr. Malfoy in the foyer. Harry and Mr. Malfoy said goodbye to Draco and Mrs. Malfoy as they left through the front doors, revealing a large circular driveway with a black car waiting for them. A stone-faced wizard was waiting by the car door and opened it for Mr. Malfoy and Harry when they’ve gotten close enough. Mr. Malfoy motioned for Harry to get into the car first, with him following. The driver closed the door and Harry looked at Mr. Malfoy, who placed his cane next to his person as he placed his closed hands on his lap.

“So Harry, since we have some time, I believe I should give you some rules that we follow both at our home, and for the wizarding world,” Mr. Malfoy said.

“Okay… where are we?” Harry wondered as he looked outside the window. The car started to drive and Harry saw a bevy of swans.

“Oh, we are in Wiltshire,” Mr. Malfoy said. “So, we have some time to talk before we reach the Ministry.”

“Oh, okay,” Harry said.

“I would normally simply Apparate or use Floo Powder to get into the Ministry, but I think that it would be easier for you if we… slowly accommodate you to our magical society,” Mr. Malfoy said.

“Okay,” Harry said again, looking outside the window. The driver was driving faster than Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia ever drove, but he seemed to be driving immensely better than them as well.

“Pay attention Harry,” Mr. Malfoy said, making the small boy to turn from the window to look at Mr. Malfoy. “The first thing you should know is that the muggles do not know of our existence, and they never should be. We have laws to protect our kind against muggle curiosity, all of which are drawn from a history that you will learn about in time. If I tell you everything, well I dare say your little head would explode. And if that were to happen, I am sure your father James would haunt my manor until the end of times,” Mr. Lucius chuckled. “Not to mention your godfather… So the rule you must follow above all is simply this: Never use magic in the presence of Muggles. All hell will break loose if you do. Do you understand that, Harry?”

“Yes Mr. Malfoy,” Harry said.

“Harry?”

“Sorry, I mean… yes father,” Harry said. He frowned and looked up at Mr. Malfoy. “It feels strange saying it.”

Mr. Malfoy gave a small smile. “Still, you must say it as I am… or soon to be… your father. Delaying you calling me that would only make it harder.”

“Yes… father,” Harry said, the words still feeling weird on his mouth. Mr. Malfoy’s small smile returned.

“Good. Now while we are at the Ministry of Magic, stick to my side Harry. Keep your head down, don’t let anyone see your scar. In fact…” Mr. Malfoy moved his hand, brushing Harry’s hair until it covered the scar, “there. Keep your hair like that Harry, until at least until you are older and ready for the world to know of your reentrance to our society.”

“Why can’t they know now?” Harry frowned.

“Because Harry, if they know that you are here, and walking around the Ministry you will be bombar—surrounded by reporters and wizards asking you questions that you will not want to answer,” Mr. Malfoy said. “They’ll leave nary a space between you and them, and who knows what unthinkable things they might do to you…. It is simply safer for both of us if you keep your scar hidden.” Harry nodded.

The Ministry car started to slow down and Harry looked around. They were in London, but he couldn’t see a huge building that would house the Ministry of Magic. “Where’s the building?” Harry frowned.

“You wouldn’t actually think that we would have a large building out in the open, Harry, do you?” Mr. Malfoy asked. “As much as it shames me, we must use the… guest entrance. Come along, Harry.”

The car slowed to a stop in front of an abandon telephone box. Harry looked at it confused as Mr. Malfoy stepped out of the Ministry car and beckoned Harry to follow. Curious, the small boy shimmied out of the Ministry car and followed Mr. Malfoy into the red telephone box. “There really should be a more dignified way,” Mr. Malfoy grumbled. He looked down at Harry. “We are returning by Floo,” he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. Harry just nodded, not knowing what Mr. Malfoy meant by that.

The telephone box was tight to fit in, Harry was thankful for his small size as Mr. Malfoy turned to the dialer and pressed the numbers six-two-four-four-two. A cool female voice said, “Please state your reason of visit to the Ministry of Magic.”

“This is Lucius Malfoy, here with my new son. We are here to finish the adoption papers,” Mr. Malfoy said.

There was a clinkering from the phone dial and Harry saw two badges come out of the coin-receiver. Lucius took them and tossed them on the floor as it began to shake and Harry found, to his amazement, that they started to descend. It was a lift! The phonebooth lowered deep into the ground, and Harry was amazed to see floors filled with people in robes pass him by. The lift stopped on a large room filled with bustling wizards and a huge fountain in the middle. They stepped out and were standing at one end of a very long and splendid hall with a highly polished, dark wood floor. The peacock-blue ceiling was inlaid with gleaming golden symbols that were continually moving and changing like some enormous heavenly notice board. The walls on each side were paneled in shiny dark wood and had many gilded fireplaces set into them. Every few seconds a witch or wizard would emerge from one of the left-handed fireplaces with a soft ‘woosh’ on the right-hand side, short queues of wizards were forming before each fireplace, waiting to depart. Harry watched both sides with amazement as wizards emerged and departed from the fireplaces.

“Come along Harry, keep close,” Mr. Malfoy said walking briskly. Harry ran to keep up with Mr. Malfoy’s long strides. He guessed that Mr. Malfoy wasn’t a person for holding hands. Mr. Malfoy led Harry to a packed lift and they waited as the lift gate’s close. Harry looked up in the air and saw paper airplanes flying around. Mr. Malfoy looked up when he saw Harry’s eyes. “Memos,” he said. “They’re a replacement for owls. It is much cleaner.”

Harry nodded and watched as the little paper airplanes hovered in the air above everybody’s heads before zooming away as the lift door’s opened only for more paper airplanes to come in. Harry watched the enchanted papers come and go several times before he felt Mr. Malfoy’s hand on his shoulder. “Come along, Harry,” he said, walking again. Harry followed and looked around. “We’re on the second floor now, the Minister’s floor is upstairs, but this one houses the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Turn left here. This floor is mainly used for Aurors, wizards who capture other wizards for using the Dark Arts, Dark artifacts, and any other spell or object the Ministry deems… illegal. Naturally, there is none in our house that can be found. Right here Harry.”

Harry followed Mr. Malfoy, his eyes roaming around. He peaked inside a small office to see a wizard bent over a stack of papers. The weirdest thing is that he had a window and it was completely sunny outside! “Mr. Ma—father, I thought you said that we’re underground,” Harry said.

“Oh yes we are Harry.”

“Then why are there windows?”

“They’re enchanted windows, they show whatever weather magical maintenance decides. It is to give the workers here that they are, in fact, above ground when they are actually under it,” Mr. Malfoy said.

“Ohh… do you work on this floor?”

“Heavens no, I am on the first floor mainly, and even then my job is to simply… talk with the Minister over events,” Mr. Malfoy said. “That, and attend the trials for the war that are still happening. If Crouch keeps his momentum, he’ll have half our community locked away in Azkaban,” Mr. Malfoy commented. “Ah, here we are. Inside Harry, inside.”

Mr. Malfoy pointed to a door with letters that Harry couldn’t read. If only the door had the word clockwise, then Harry could read it perfectly! Inside the office was a short man in lavender robes sitting in an amusingly high desk. From what Harry could see, the desk was surrounded by papers and files that the little man had scattered about. “Mr. Malfoy!” the man said, having a squeaky voice. “There you are! And I take it that this is Harry?”

“Yes, he is,” Mr. Malfoy said. He turned to Harry and pointed to a wooden chair against the wall. “Why don’t you have a seat while myself and Mr. Gully have a talk. I promise that this will not take long.”

“Okay,” Harry said. He walked over to the chair and climbed onto it.

“Good heavens, he is a small child for his age, isn’t he?” the short wizard said.

“Yes, but if you remember his father was short as well,” Mr. Lucius said. “But I am sure that he will grow after a few decent meals.”

“Yes well… I have all the information you need Mr. Malfoy,” the wizard said. “Although it was a bit hard to find because of the war, you see. …” He bent over the file he was looking at and read from it. “Harry James Potter, born July 31st 1980 at his first home it seems, which appears to be a small cottage in Godric’s Hollow. Orphaned at age one because… well, you know,” the little man said apprehensively, “and then… nothing! Absolutely nothing! Until yesterday according to you when the boy apparates into your back garden! Mr. Malfoy, you can see that this is an interesting case, the talk of the month if a lesser man had it! So where was he? All we did yesterday was paperwork, so we barely had a chance to talk!” The little man looked excited as he leaned onto his desk to look at Mr. Malfoy.

“I am not privy to give you gossiping details,” Mr. Malfoy said, “but give me your quill and I will fill in Harry’s blanks.”

“Ohh… alright,” the wizard said disappointedly. Harry watched as the man slide over a folder and a weird feather in a bottle. Mr. Malfoy took the feather and started writing. When he was done, he returned the feather to the bottle, closed the folder, and tucked it under his arm. “There, and I have finished my part of the paperwork. All that is left is for my wife to sign it.”

“Mr. Malfoy, I must insist you leave a copy here. For filing purposes. All adoptions must be filed to be ready on-hand in case something happens,” the little man said.

“Of course, and you will be receiving a copy, but only after my wife signs her name on it. Now, this appears to be all for today. … Oh no actually, if you wouldn’t be so kind to tell me this, Harry’s key isn’t in his file… who has it?” Mr. Malfoy asked as he picked up his cane.

“His key?”

“To his vault in Gringotts,” Mr. Malfoy said. “I wish to inspect it today and make sure that I have parental control over it for safekeeping.”

“Oh yes! Now that you mentioned it, it is odd that I did not see a key… umm… I honestly do not know. You best ask the goblins for that, they’re the ones better at keeping money,” the little man said. Goblins? There are goblins? Harry leaned forward in his wooden chair. He wants to see a goblin! He doesn’t know what a goblin is, but he wants to see one.

“I see… thank you Mr. Gilly, good-bye. Harry, come along,” Mr. Malfoy said leaving the office. Harry ran after him. Mr. Malfoy looked down and said, “Not to worry, I have the man charmed. He couldn’t talk about you if he wanted to. Now, we simply need to stop into my office and we will be off to Gringotts.”

Harry just nodded, too interested in looking into the open offices. The lift was much more spacious this time around as virtually nobody was in it. It was only Harry and Mr. Malfoy as well as some paper planes that hovered over their heads. Harry wondered if he could jump up and catch one. He bent his knees and was about to do that when the lift’s doors opened again and Mr. Malfoy walked off. Harry had to run to keep up with Mr. Malfoy, too busy on trying to run without tripping to look around the room. They stopped in front of another door which Mr. Malfoy unlocked with a key. “Madam Minister, I am surprise to see you,” Mr. Malfoy said as he walked into the office.

Harry followed to see an older looking woman reading something on Mr. Malfoy’s desk. Harry looked around Mr. Malfoy’s office and saw that there were no pictures of either Draco or Mrs. Malfoy, in fact there was almost no accessories at all.

“Hello Lucius,” the woman said. “You had a file that I needed to look at, and I needed to talk with you anyway so I waited. Oh—who is this boy?” she asked, her eyes going to Harry.

“This is Harry, my new son. I’ve just finalized the adoption papers. Don’t be rude Harry, say hello to the Minister,” Mr. Malfoy said, his eyes shifting to Harry.

“H-Hello,” Harry said. “I’m Harry.”

“Hello Harry, it is a pleasure to meet you,” the Minister said smiling. “I’ve worked with your mother and father personally for some time, I was their boss you see, and I have to say that you look the spitting image of them, doesn’t he Lucius?”

“It is as if they’ve come back from the dead, Minister Bagnold,” Mr. Malfoy said. “Now, if you would kindly excuse us both there is still work to be done. Harry and I must visit Gringotts.”

“Of course, of course, you finish your business first. But first chance you get, come back here immediately. Crouch wants to schedule three more trials, and is asking me to oversee them all,” the woman said.

“Of course Minister, good-day,” Mr. Malfoy nodded. The Minister stood and leave Mr. Malfoy’s office, closing the door.

“Harry. You must never stutter. Malfoys do not stutter, understand?” Mr. Malfoy said a bit coldly.

“I-I’m—“

“No stuttering Harry.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry forced out.

“Good. Now we are going to Apparate to Gringotts. It is the quickest method. Hold onto me tightly Harry,” Mr. Malfoy said. Harry reached out and took a fistful of Mr. Malfoy’s cloak. He suddenly felt a familiar pull from his navel followed by the suffocating metal bands that tightened around his body His sight has returned and Harry saw that they were in a different room—a much larger room—with very strange men in tiny suits walking about. They looked like house-elves but taller, their noses pointier, a dome-shaped head and pointy fingers and feet. Mr. Malfoy walked to the nearest one and said, “I am requiring information about my adopted son Harry Potter’s vault. Specifically who is in possession of the key to it.”

The goblin looked up from the large book he was writing in, at Mr. Malfoy for a moment. He leaned across his desk to stare at Harry, who was still holding Mr. Malfoy’s robe, and slowly returned to his seat. He returned looking at his book, flipping several pages for a couple of minutes. “Vault 687’s key is given to Albus Dumbledore as per the will,” it said.

Mr. Malfoy had an irritable look on his face. “That simply will not do. I demand transference from Mr. Dumbledore to myself as I am Harry’s legal guardian now.” He took the adoption papers out of the small folder and showed the goblin. The goblin took the papers with its long fingers and looked at it. “One moment,” he said. Taking the papers he hopped off of his seat and walked off to a place Harry couldn’t see.

“Why would James Potter give the key to Dumbledore? It makes no sense,” Mr. Malfoy muttered. “From our understanding, everything would become Black’s if something went awry. How did Dumbledore become factored into this?”

Harry frowned. Why was Mr. Malfoy taking about his dad like that? Did something go wrong? Harry had no more time to wonder as the goblin with the adoption papers returned. He gave Mr. Malfoy the papers back and said, “A key will be made for you.”

“What about Dumbledore’s?”

“He still holds his as per the will,” the goblin said.

“That is entirely unacceptable!” Mr. Malfoy said. “I want the key Dumbledore holds immediately.”

“Not possible.”

“Then you will be hearing from me later,” Mr. Malfoy said, clearly in a foul mood. “Harry. We’re leaving.” He walked away from the Goblin, Harry following after. Mr. Malfoy told him to hold onto his robes again, and Harry felt the same awful feeling and blackness. They appeared in front of Malfoy Manor.

“Go to Draco’s room Harry,” Mr. Malfoy said walking into the manor. Harry didn’t listen, instead he just followed Mr. Malfoy as the adult called for a house-elf to get Mrs. Malfoy. “Harry, go to Draco’s room,” Mr. Malfoy repeated.

“Who’s Dumbledore?” Harry asked.

“I do not have time to answer that Harry, go to Draco’s room,” Mr. Malfoy stated for a third time.

“But I want to know who Dumbledore is! The funny looking guy said that my dad left a key with him! So who is he?” Harry asked.

“I will tell you later, but now you will go to Draco’s room,” Mr. Malfoy said coldly.

“I want to know now!” Harry stomped. Mr. Malfoy turned harshly, his wand aimed at Harry and Harry felt an intense sting on his butt as if being spanked by an invisible, hard hand. His body shook with each spank. Mr. Malfoy just stood there, flicking his wand unemotionally with each spank. After a while Harry felt his butt was raw and hurting too much. His eyes were stinging as tears fell. He looked up at Mr. Malfoy, expecting an apology.

“You’re a Malfoy now, and Malfoys follow the patriarch Harry, you have to follow my rules now. And the rule is when I tell you to go to your room, you go to your room. Go,” Mr. Malfoy stated.

Harry started to cry and ran away from Mr. Malfoy. He ran up the stairs, tripping slightly as his tears blurred his vision, turned into Draco’s corridor and ran into Draco’s room. He ignored the toys, ignored the stuffed animals, ignored everything around him as he just jumped onto the bed, his glasses pushing into him as he stuffed his face into the mattress and cried.

He didn’t know how long he cried; he just laid there, his glasses now to his side, as he sobbed disgusting noises, his tears wetting the bed. He felt a small hand on his shoulder and Harry looked up to see Draco. “Why are you crying on my bed?” Draco asked.

“He—He—Mr. Malfoy hurt me!” Harry cried. “He pointed his stick and—and—my butt was spanked hard!”

“Oh… what did you do?” Draco asked.

Harry sniffled. “I just wanted to know who Dumbledore is,” Harry cried. He moved to a sitting position and rubbed his eyes. “The funny-looking man in the bank said that Dumbledore has a key or something and that my dad gave it to him. I remembered your story but your dad wouldn’t tell me. And when I told Mr. Malfoy that I want to know, he hurt me! The spanking was harder than any I’ve gotten before!”

“Oh… well that’s how he is,” Draco shrugged. He smiled and said, “Let’s play! Mother and I got all your furniture ready for your room!”

Harry sniffled and wiped the remaining tears away. “Is he—is he going to apol—apolo—say sorry?” he asked. Draco reached for Harry’s glasses.

“Why would he? Father never apologizes,” Draco said. “Come on! Let’s go play!”

Harry took his glasses and tried to give a smile. Maybe playing would make the day better. Draco helped him off of the bed and gave Harry a different toy wand that shot off multi-colored bubbles that popped with a musical tone. They filled the room with the musical bubbles until the ceiling was filled with them, and then Draco took the toy wand that shoots sparks and aimed it at the bubbles, popping them all. They laughed and continued playing with the wands until they’ve gotten bored; then Draco pulled Harry to the toy cauldron with the big book of pictures and showed Harry how to do it. When lunch time came, Harry was relieved to see that Mr. Malfoy wasn’t there. Mrs. Malfoy asked Harry to come to her, and to his surprised, she bent down to give him a hug welcoming him to the family. Harry smiled and returned the hug before turning to hug Draco, just because he felt like it. He did not tell Mrs. Malfoy about the spanking, not wanting to get on her bad side. After lunch, the boys returned to Draco’s room and continued to play until it was time for dinner.

Mr. Malfoy was sitting in his seat already, waiting for Harry and Draco. “Boys,” he said as a way of hello. “Harry, I hope you learned your lesson.”

Harry looked to Draco for help. His butt stopped hurting sometime while he was playing with Draco. “Harry?” Mr. Malfoy repeated.

“Yes… father,” Harry said, the word nevertheless still feeling strange to him.

“Good. Now Narcissa and I have just finished your adoption papers,” Mr. Malfoy said, as if nothing wrong has happened. “You are now, legally speaking, our son. And your full legal name is now Harry James Potter-Malfoy. Congratulations Harry, welcome to the family.”

“Thank you…” Harry said, mostly looking at Mrs. Malfoy and Draco rather than Mr. Malfoy. Draco gave Harry a small smile while Mrs. Malfoy just nodded. After dinner Harry and Draco had their bath, and Mr. Malfoy read them another story before sending them to bed. Since Harry’s room was still being furnished, Mrs. Malfoy promised that they will be here the next day, Harry and Draco shared the bed again. Harry had the same stuffed snake from last night seemingly coil around his body like a padded vest while Draco chose to bring a stuffed dragon into bed. While laying down they shared another smile.

“Hey Harry,” Draco whispered. “You’re my brother now. Do you know what that means?”

“No, what?” Harry asked, looking at the blur that was his new brother. He could see Draco’s teeth as he smiled.

“That means… that you’re mine and there is nothing anybody can do about it,” Draco said, nodding to himself.

“Nothing?”

“Nothing. Not even muggles or Dumbledore could take you from me now,” Draco smiled. He moved closer to Harry until Harry could see him perfectly clear. “You’re mine,” Draco said again like a child talking to his favorite toy. “My brother, mine. You’re not going anywhere.”

“Draco…” Harry muttered. He smiled gratefully. Mr. Malfoy might have hurt him, but it doesn’t matter because he now has Draco. And who knows, maybe Mr. Malfoy’s temper will cool with time.


	5. A Year in the Life

**The Fifth Chapter**

**A Year in the Life**

Living with the Malfoys as weird, Harry thought. At least compared with his life with the Dursleys. First off: he had a bedroom, an actual bedroom. It was as large as Draco’s with just as many toys and stuffed animals but Harry found that he spent most of his day with Draco in his room, or outside in the garden playing around. Blaise was with them most days, Mrs. Malfoy and Mrs. Zabini spending their time lounging inside while they talked or wondering the gardens. Draco was great, Harry decided, he was the best person he had ever met. He shared all of his toys with Harry and made all the important decisions like what they were going to play. He still dressed Harry, which Harry thought was a nice thing to do. Even though the silly looking men caused house-elves pulled clothes out for Harry, Draco would always come into his room and examine the clothes the house-elves pull out before either giving it his approval or throwing them back into the wardrobe and pulling out something better. A month into doing this, Harry decided that he liked being dressed by Draco. Another thing he didn’t have to worry about.

Mrs. Malfoy was like an opposite version of Aunt Petunia. She was always wearing beautiful robes and clothes, and told Harry and Draco repeatedly about the importance of appearance. “You’re a Malfoy now Harry, that means you have the responsibility of the Malfoy image to uphold. Not to mention the Potter image!” she was fond of saying. Harry was confused, not knowing what ‘image’ she was talking about. All he wanted was to play with Draco and Blaise. It was always those three. Draco talked about how their parents would be introducing them to the other families they talk with, but that day never came. Harry once asked Mrs. Malfoy why that was and she answered, “You’re not ready Harry. You’ve barely lived with us for a month.”

Harry liked her answer and decided never to ask her again. In the end, Harry decided that she was nice, the entire Malfoy family was nice, even Mr. Malfoy… but still Harry would be lying if he said that the patriarch didn’t scare him a little. For the first few days as a Malfoy, Harry felt his butt sting a phantom pain whenever he looked at Mr. Malfoy’s way. The man was somewhat warmer to Harry, he didn’t spank him again but he wasn’t exactly physical when showing his affection for the boys. The most Draco and Harry would get are pat on the backs or a ruffle of hair. At least Mrs. Malfoy hugged them. But Harry didn’t complain, they were both ten times more affectional than either Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia. Mr. Malfoy liked to drill etiquette lessons in Harry’s and Draco’s minds, teaching them everything from how to eat properly to how to present themselves when in public. Harry just went along with each other, all of them reminding Harry of Mr. Malfoy’s rule of “No stuttering.”

Harry quickly learned that while Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy were teaching him lessons on how to act in their society, Draco and Blaise are teaching him how to act like themselves without their parents knowing. There was a lot of weird things about their society, Harry learned. For some reason they liked blood, at least that was the impression Harry got from how much they said words like “Pureblood,” and “Half-Blood.” He wondered if there were some wizards who were vampires and that there was a taste difference between purebloods and half-bloods. One day, Harry decided to ask Draco and Blaise about Purebloods and Half-Bloods, causing them both to laugh.

“It has nothing to do with blood taste Harry!” Draco said.

“Or vampires!”

“Then why was Mrs—Mummy and Mrs. Zabini talking about it?” Harry asked, looking between Draco and Blaise.

“Well… that’s a hard question,” Draco said. “I don’t know the full answer, but I’ll do my best. Umm some people in our society think that their blood is important. I mean who their an-ces-tors are,” Draco slowed down the word to make sure he said each syllable correctly. “Like are they wizards? Are they muggles? That stuff. Purebloods are people like Blaise and me. We have wizard an-ces-tors going back and back and back. Half-Bloods are people like you Harry. They have either a muggle or muggleborn parent or grandparent.”

“Muggle…born?” Harry asked, frowning.

“They’re witches and wizards who don’t have any wizard relatives,” Blaise said. “Your… mother… was one of them.”

“We have another word for them,” Draco said. “’Mudblood.’ That’s what we call people like your mother.”

“So my mum… was a mudblood,” Harry said slowly.

“Yeah, but don’t say that word outside! Mother told me that it’s a bad word!” Draco said.

“Where did you learn it?” Harry asked.

“Father, of course,” Draco said. “He was angry one day and was raving about a person.” He shrugged and stretched slightly. “Important thing is Harry: Your mother was a muggleborn. And Dad was a Pureblood. Which makes you a Half-Blood.”

“Which all means absolutely nothing… to us,” Blaise said.

“Not so with other people,” Draco said.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked.

“There are some people that really care about blood,” Draco said. “And not in the vampire way, but the pureblood, half-blood way. There are people who judge others based on their blood pu—pur—purity.”

“Purity?” Harry asked. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know, but that’s what mother and father calls it,” Draco said. He turned to Blaise and asked, “Do you know what it means?”

“No,” Blaise said.

They decided to drop the conversation and continued playing. They were using Draco’s toy wands and Blaise wanted to play a game called “Auror and Dark Wizards” in which one Auror had to capture two Dark Wizards running about. Naturally, Blaise wanted to be the Auror first with the two Malfoy boys being the Dark Wizards running around the room. Harry never thought being chased around would be fun, but found himself laughing hysterically as Blaise tried to catch him, his sparks missing Harry whenever he tried to cast them.

Harry’s days were spent in similar bliss, the three boys played their days away and Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy would bring Harry and Draco to them during sometime to teach them a lesson or two that they needed to know to survive in their world, both unaware of the troubles or activities of the outside world.

 

Dumbledore was worried, very worried. Fall was transitioning into Winter and still no sign of Harry Potter. The Dursleys were no help. They stopped looking for the boy by lunchtime on the day he disappeared. He couldn’t ask the Ministry for help, they would want to know where Dumbledore was hiding the boy, or worse, want to parade him like an icon for the Ministry. He couldn’t have that. Not only would it be scarring for a four-year-old boy, but it could seriously ruin his plans. Wizarding families would be clawing themselves to get Harry into his family. Dumbledore can’t have that. It would become immensely more difficult for his plans to succeed if the boy has a different childhood. Voldemort is still out there… Voldemort will rise again… Dumbledore needs the boy to defeat him. And the only way he could secure that the boy will help him is to have him being raised by muggles.

The fireplace in his office flared to life and Moody walked through. “Dumbledore,” he grunted.

“Did you find him?” Dumbledore asked.

“Think so,” Moody grunted. “Heard some wizards talking about a black-haired boy walking around the Ministry and Gringotts a while back. Went to ask and they kept describing the same boy: Small with black hair and green eyes. Hair’s a mess, like a rat’s nest.”

“That’s Harry!” Dumbledore said immediately. “Who was he with?”

“Lot’s of different reports,” Moody said. “Some say he’s with the Malfoys, other say he was with the Weasleys, or the Diggory family, or even with Thomas. It changes with each person I asked.”

“Malfoy, Weasley, Diggory, or Yaxley…” Dumbledore muttered to himself. “This is bad news, Alastor, very bad. Harry is with a wizarding family. He can be exposed to many dangers if he is kept with them. I must find out which one he is with. Thank you very much Alastor, I can take it from here.”

Moody just grunted before returning to the fireplace, disappearing in the green flames. Dumbledore sighed and rubbed his forehead. Potter is with a wizarding family, and he was at the Ministry of Magic already. This is horrible. He had to find the boy, and quick before he learns too much. Dumbledore decided that he needed to visit the families one by one until he finds the boy. “Hopefully Molly has him,” Dumbledore said to himself. He set off out of the castle, quickly making his way outside of the castle’s grounds so he could Apparate. He walked quickly, smiling a small nod to Hagrid as he passed the groundskeeper. Once he passed the gates, he turned on his spot and disappeared from the castle, only to appear in front of the Burrow, home of the Weasleys. He strolled through the small pathway to the door and raised his hand to knock politely.

“Fred! George! Will you stop that at once!” Mrs. Weasley’s voice yelled out before Dumbledore could knock.

“We didn’t do it Mum! We swear!” a young voice said.

“We don’t know how a gnome got into Ginny’s room,” an identical voice said.

“I do not care how it got into your sister’s room, you will take it out before it even touches one of your sister’s toys!” Mrs. Weasley yelled. “How would Bill and Charlie feel if they knew you two were acting like this while they are in Hogwarts?”

“They’ll probably have a laugh,” the first voice said.

“Yeah Mum! They’ll have a laugh,” the second voice said.

Dumbledore decided to save Mrs. Weasley in the moment and knocked the door.

“Who could that be?” Mrs. Weasley wondered. “You two do not move a muscle, you hear me, I am not done with you!” The door opened and Mrs. Weasley gasped. “Professor Dumbledore! What a surprise.”

“Hello Molly. May I come in?” Dumbledore asked.

“Is this about Bill and Charlie? Did something happen to them?” Mrs. Weasley asked immediately.

“Worry not, this isn’t about them,” Dumbledore chuckled. “May I come in?”

“Oh of course, yes, yes,” Mrs. Weasley said moving out of the way. Dumbledore walked in to see two identical six-year-old redheads. “You must be Fred and George,” Dumbledore chuckled. “You must have caused such a racket.”

“Not a racket really,” one said.

“More like just some fun,” the other smiled.

“Besides! Perce is being boring,” the first one complained.

“And Ron’s sleeping—“

“So, what else are we supposed to do?”

Dumbledore chuckled and turned to Mrs. Weasley, who was giving Fred and George a sharp look. “How are your kids doing nowadays, Molly? You have… seven I believe.”

“Yes seven,” Molly nodded. “You have two of them, you met these two and my other three are somewhere.”

“And that is all there is?” Dumbledore asked. “You or Arthur didn’t seem to find anyone else?”

“What are you talking about, Dumbledore?” Mrs. Weasley asked.

“I’ll be honest with you Molly, this is about Harry Potter,” Dumbledore said. “He is missing from his relatives and was recently spotted in the Ministry of Magic with multiple people, one of them being your husband. I had hoped that you have found him, but clearly I am mistaken.”

“Harry Potter is missing from his family? Oh the poor dear,” Mrs. Weasley sighed. “I hope you find him quickly, Dumbledore, the young thing must be hysterical. And his family, oh the poor dears whoever they are, must be missing him.”

“They are indeed,” Dumbledore nodded. “Which is why I must find the boy immediately and bring him back home.”

“Oh I hope you find him quick,” Mrs. Weasley said.

“I hope so too, but he has been missing from his home for a month. There may be a chance he doesn’t want to return home,” Dumbledore said.

“Wouldn’t want to go home? Why wouldn’t he?” Mrs. Weasley gasped.

“Well imagine going from a world without magic into a world with magic,” Dumbledore chuckled. “You wouldn’t want to leave it.”

“Ohh, that is a tough thing,” Mrs. Weasley frowned.

“It is Molly, but I am sure his family can convince him to come home. At least for a little while until he is old enough for Hogwarts,” Dumbledore said. “Well, it was a nice visit Molly, but I have work back in the castle to do. Have a good day, and you too, boys,” Dumbledore chuckled, his eyes twinkling from behind his half-moon spectacles.

“Y-Yes sir!” Fred and George said as Dumbledore left the Burrow.

Dumbledore chuckled to himself but shook his head. Potter wasn’t in the Weasley’s. That would have been the best situation for Dumbledore. Now he had to worry about the Diggorys or Malfoys or the Thomas families. The Diggorys and Thomases would be easy to deal with. But if the boy somehow landed in the Malfoy’s grasp or any of that lot… it would be too horrid to think of. “I have to find him,” Dumbledore said. He decided to visit the Diggorys next, and work his way from there. But not now, no Hogwarts gave him too much work. For now, he had the relief to know that the boy has a bed to sleep in. Unfortunately, it is just the wrong bed. “Damn the boy if he ends up like his father.”

 

It was almost Christmas, and for some reason Harry found himself getting excited. With the Dursleys, the most he did was decorate the house before spending Christmas Eve and Christmas Day in his cupboard without any gifts. With the Malfoys however, the whole mansion seemed to come to life with Christmas spirit. House-elves were seen hanging silver tinsel everywhere; crystalized snowflakes hung in midair all around the manor that glittered and shone their own lights. In the main lounge Mr. Malfoy had a large Christmas tree, the largest Harry has ever seen, set up in the corner with similar crystalized snowflakes, giant glittering orbs, and what looked like fairies hung on the tree, and silver tinsel that was made of actual silver! Harry was amazed at how much decoration went into the house. All of this was just for the four of them? He asked Mrs. Malfoy one day about the amount they were decorating.

“Oh no, Harry,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “Normally we hold a ball, a giant party if you will. We gather all of our associates and friends to our home for Christmas Eve. It would be the talk of the year in our social circle. Sometimes it is just too easy to entertain them,” she chuckled softly.

“Is there going to be one this year?” Harry asked.

“This year? No,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “Lucius and I decided that we’ll won’t hold the ball this year.”

“Why not?” Harry asked.

“Because you only stayed with us for almost two months, Harry,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “It is too soon to expose you to them. We need to get certain stories in line, decide how to introduce you to certain people, make sure you never get near others… all too much planning that two months won’t satisfy Harry. We live in a very complicated society Harry, a society where any slight mishap can cause years of grudges.”

“It can?” Harry asked.

“Yes, my aunt didn’t talk to my cousin Sirius for the rest of her life just because he was sorted into Gryffindor instead of Slytherin,” Mrs. Malfoy said.

“Sirius, that’s my godfather right?” Harry asked.

“Yes, Sirius is your godfather,” Mrs. Malfoy nodded. “As well as your father’s… never mind.”

“My dad’s what?”

“Never mind Harry, it’ll take too long to explain it,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “Just know that your father… had a… tragically complex life. I don’t know all of the details but, he made some decisions that made my cousin very sad.”

“Okay Mummy,” Harry said. “Hey Mummy… why don’t you or Daddy talk about my mum?” he asked.

“What are you talking about Harry, of course we talk about her,” Mrs. Malfoy said dismissively.

“No you don’t, Mummy,” Harry said. “You, Daddy, and Mrs. Zabini only talked about my dad, never my mum.”

“Ohh… you noticed that,” Mrs. Malfoy frowned. She sighed. “God how can I explain this? We don’t talk about your mother because… well Harry… she’s part of a problem—“

“I know she’s mug—muggle—mudblood!” Harry said, stumbling over the word ‘muggleborn.’

“Harry Malfoy, never say that word! Who even taught you that?” Mrs. Malfoy chastised.

“Draco.”

“I never—anyway. We don’t talk about your mother because she caused… problems between your father and my cousin,” Mrs. Malfoy said.

“What sort of problems?”

“Well… I don’t know the full details,” Mrs. Malfoy said.

“Yes you do. You and Mrs. Zabini talked a lot together, and she said one time that she knew my dad personally,” Harry said.

“Yes well… I’m sure she can help me explain it when you’re older,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “How about when you’re five? Or maybe six?”

“Why five or six? I want to know now,” Harry pouted. “Please Mummy… why did my mum caused problems between my dad and godfather?”

“Because your godfather wasn’t supposed to be your godfather,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “He was supposed to be your… second dad, your other parent. James and Sirius were on their way to becoming like husband and wife, only it wasn’t exactly legal back then—in fact I wonder if it is even legal today, I’ll have to ask Lucius about that—nevertheless, they were on that road when all of a sudden, as if overnight, James decided that he loved your mother. This was a shock to everyone involved, and it sort of placed a splinter between James and Sirius. Not that your mother noticed. She got herself a Potter, one of the handsomest boys in Hogwarts …Delilah’s words, not mine, and my poor cousin was left confused and heartbroken. Even now we don’t know how or why this happened. And we can’t exactly ask your godfather because he’s in Azkaban.”

“Ohh… okay,” Harry said. He didn’t know how to feel. He looked up and said, “Thanks Mummy… for telling me.”

“Of course, Harry,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “Dinner should be ready soon, so go wash up. And tell your brother to come to me for a moment, I need a talk with him.”

“Okay Mummy,” Harry said.

The next day he told Blaise and Draco what Mrs. Malfoy told him. They were in Draco’s room like always and Harry was sitting in the middle of the rug with Draco and Blaise in front of him sitting crisscrossed. “So Mummy said that my dad and Godfather used to like each other like how Mummy likes Daddy and my godfather was supposed to be my other parent. Like how Daddy and Mummy are. My dad and godfather were supposed to be like ‘husband and wife’ whatever that means.”

“That means they get married,” Blaise said.

“Oh, okay,” Harry said. “Anyway, they were on the way of becoming like husband and wife when all of a sudden my dad decides that he’s in love with my mum.”

“That’s so weird, how could that happen?” Draco asked.

“I don’t know but it left my godfather very sad and confused,” Harry said.

“That sounds bad,” the four-year-old Zabini said.

Harry nodded. “And we can’t ask him because he’s in Azk—Azkabean—As… umm help?”

“Azkaban,” Draco said.

“Azkablam,” Harry said.

“No, no, no,” Draco said. “It’s Az-ka-ban.”

“Az-ka-ban,” Harry repeated.

“Good, say it together,” Draco said.

“Azkaban!” Harry said, smiling when he saw both boys smiling back at him. “My godfather is in that place and we can’t ask him!”

“No we can’t,” Draco said. “But that’s cool. Your dad and godfather were going to get married? I wonder who the wife would be.”

“Does it work like that?”

“I don’t know.”

Blaise looked at both of them and stood up. He walked to Harry and pulled the small boy to his feet. “Well… if it works like that, Harry’s going to be my wife!” Blaise declared.

“What?” Draco said jumping up.

“Harry is my wife!” Blaise said again. “You’re okay with that, right Harry?”

Harry looked between the two of them confused.

“No you can’t do that,” Draco said.

“Why not?”

“He’s a boy! Wives are girls!” Draco said.

“So? Harry said that his dad and godfather were going to be husband and wife,” Blaise said. “So why can’t Harry and me?”

“Because you can’t,” Draco pouted. “I say you can’t because Harry’s my brother and I say that he’s going to be my wife!”

“You can’t do that!” Blaise yelled. “Harry can’t be your wife—he’s your brother!”

“So? I say that Harry is my wife because he’s my brother,” Draco said, stomping his foot in childish stubbornness.

“Umm… guys,” Harry tried to say.

“No, he’s my wife, I said it first,” Blaise said. “Besides I can be a better husband than you! I taught him how to read his first word!”

“I’m teaching him how to make potions.”

“I told him about our world like my mother wanted.”

“I already did that,” Draco said, sticking his tongue out (something that Harry never seen.).

“I’m teaching him more,” Blaise said. “I’m a better husband.”

“No I am! We already shared a bed… twice!” Draco yelled.

“So? That means nothing!”

“Mother and father sleep in the same bed,” Draco reasoned. “So that means that Harry should be my wife because we sleep in the same bed two times!”

“Harry and I will sleep in the same bed loads of times,” Blaise said. “Whenever Harry comes over to stay the night we’ll sleep in the same bed!”

“Your mother would never allow that.”

“She will once I tell her Harry’s going to be my wife,” Blaise said.

“No way!” Draco said.

“Guys, I don’t think it works that way,” Harry said a bit loudly.

“Then how else would it work Harry?” Draco asked.

“I don’t know,” Harry said. “Umm…we could ask Mummy?”

“She’s out with my mother,” Blaise said.

“Ohh…” Harry said. “But I’m sure that it doesn’t work like that.”

“We can wait until they come back then ask them,” Blaise said. “Until then Harry you can practice being my wife!”

“No,” Harry said. “Why can’t we just play with the wands instead?”

“Okay, that sounds nice,” Blaise smiled.

And like that they dropped the subject of Harry being their wife, the matter forgotten as Harry pulled out the toy wands and gave them to Blaise and Draco. They spent the rest of the day shooting sparks around Draco’s room, aiming at each other as random flicks of the wands turned into a game of Aurors and Dark Wizards. By the time Mrs. Malfoy and Mrs. Zabini came back, the boys forgot to bring up their question about if Harry could be a wife but instead Harry and Draco just said goodbye to Blaise as he and his mother left.

It was soon Christmas Day and Harry woke to expect the same as any other Christmas Day in his life: Nothing. But instead he woke to see a pile of presents, a rather large pile of presents. Harry didn’t know what to do. He just stared at the pile in shock. This couldn’t be for him! No, it couldn’t be… there has to be a mistake! All these presents couldn’t be his, there are too much. Harry slipped out of his bed, his legs dangling over the floor as he did so. Harry made his way apprehensively to the pile of presents and looked through each of them. They all said, “To Harry.”

This can’t be right! He ran out of his room and into Draco’s. “Draco! There’s something wrong!” he said as he opened the door.

“What is it Harry? You didn’t get your presents?” Draco frowned. He was already surrounded by shredded wrapping paper and new toys and potion ingredients (all child-friendly).

“I did but Draco! There’s so much!” Harry said. “That can’t be right!”

“Why not?” Draco frowned.

“Because… it’s too much!” Harry said. “There’s a pile! A big pile!”

“I know, I got the same pile too,” Draco said.

“But Draco—“

“Just relax Harry,” Draco chuckled. “Go open them! They’re all yours.”

“But… I can’t, it’s too much,” Harry said.

“Harry, just do it,” Draco said. “Or I’ll just have to open them for you.”

“The Dursleys never gave me anything,” Harry admitted. “For Christmas last year they just kept me in my cupboard. … I… I never got a present before.”

“Never?” Draco gasped. He moved from his pile of new toys and grabbed Harry’s arm. “We need to fix this now!” the small boy declared as he pulled his small brother out of his room and into his. Draco marched to the pile of gifts and picked one out. “Here!” he said thrusting it into Harry’s hands. Harry looked down at the present in his hand, not knowing what to do.

“You open it, Harry,” Draco sighed. “Rip the paper off.”

“Oh… okay,” Harry said. He grabbed the brightly colored paper and ripped, revealing part of a potions book that looked like the one Draco had. He ripped the paper fully off of the book and opened it, seeing different pictures.

“Cool! It’s the same one that I got,” Draco grinned. “Come on! Open up some more!”

“Okay…” Harry said uncertainly. He placed the children’s potions book to the side and grabbed another present, which turned to be a complete set of potion ingredients that went with the book he got. They spent the next ten minutes opening Harry’s presents; he got new toy wands, a new broomstick, new stuffed animals, as well as a brand-new kiddie cauldron. Once they had all of Harry’s presents unwrapped, Draco turned to Harry and hugged him. “Happy Christmas Harry,” he grinned.

“Happy Christmas Draco,” Harry said, shocked by the hug but liked it as he hugged Draco back. Draco pulled Harry into the corridor and pointed up. “Look,” he said.

Harry looked up to see a small group of spiky leaves and what looked to be red berries. “What is that?”

“Mother called it a miss-till-toe,” Draco said.

“A miss-till-toe?” Harry asked.

“Yup,” Draco nodded. “When two people stand under it, they’re supposed to do this.” Draco leaned forward and very briefly, not even a second, planted his lips on Harry’s. He smirked and said, “There! I was your first kiss! Now Blaise will have to agree that you’re going to be my wife!”

Harry couldn’t help but laugh. He hugged his brother, tackling the shocked youth to the ground, and continued to laugh. He was so happy, he couldn’t imagine his life without Draco now, or without Blaise, his mother, or his Mummy and Daddy. It was perfect! So much better than with the Dursleys. Even though Daddy could be strict, Harry wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“Hey Draco,” Harry said, looking up at Draco from his chest, still on top of him. “Let’s see if we can get a miss-till-toe on top of Mummy and Daddy!” he grinned.

“Alright Harry,” Draco said, both boys falling into childish giggles.

 

Four months. Harry has been living with the Malfoys for four months. It was February now, and Harry Malfoy felt like he had finally settled into his old life. Today he even gave a house-elf an order! It was to reach something he couldn’t, and he kept saying “please,” “thank-you” and “sorry” but still! An order! He was becoming just like his big brother.

But now, on this unseasonably warm February day, Harry found himself alone in the gardens. The snow had melted and the gardens seemed to be in a magical state of constant bloom, the rose bushes was blossomed in reds, the moving plants that Harry didn’t know the name of were dancing merrily while others seemed to stretch like waking from a long nap. In the distance Harry saw the hedges grow towards the sky, towering all the small flowers on the edges of the paved pathway. Grinning to himself, Harry began running towards the hedges wanting to look around. He never really gotten a chance to yet. Mainly Harry stayed in the house with Draco, but he wanted to be outside for a bit, feel the sunlight on his skin, and go exploring the huge garden outside his home.

The hedges seemed to form a pattern that created a small maze. Harry wondered around as he looked at the tall green hedges that towered over him. His eyes looking up, he wasn’t watching where he was going. His foot caught on something and Harry gave a yell as he fell to the grassy ground beneath him. “Ow,” he groaned.

 _“Sorry,”_ a voice said underneath him. Harry looked to see a huge snake coiling next to his feet. The snake was very long, Harry had a feeling that it was easily taller than Harry if it were to stretch out. Green scales and as thick as Harry’s forearm, the snake looked at Harry inquisitively.

 _“A talking snake!”_ Harry gasped. _“This is so cool!”_

 _“Sorry,”_ the snake said again.

 _“What are you doing here?”_ Harry asked the snake, moving so that he was sitting in front of it. The snake raised his head so that they were both on eye level.

 _“Moving,”_ the snake said. _“Making my way to Brazil.”_

_“Why Brazil?”_

_“I’m from Brazil,”_ the snake said. _“I want to go back there.”_

 _“Aww… that’s too bad,”_ Harry frowned. “ _I don’t know where I’m from, but I live here now with my new Mummy and Daddy.”_

_“Oh?”_

_“Yeah! And it’s great! I have a brother now! He’s really amazing—they’re all here today! Which is rare because Daddy works a lot. Oh! I know! I should bring them all to you! I’m sure Daddy could help you! And I bet they never saw a talking snake before!”_

_“What do you mean? All snakes talk, it is the humans who don’t listen,”_ the snake huffed. _“But alright, I’ll come with you.”_ The snake slithered to Harry and curled around Harry. He felt the snake twist around his leg, travel around up his back and twisted around his neck and Harry’s outstretched arm. The snake was heavy, and definitely taller than Harry, but he was too excited to show his family a talking snake that he did his best to ignore the weight.

 _“Are you on good enough?”_ Harry asked.

 _“I am secure. Lead on!”_ the snake said. Harry smiled and made his way out of the hedges and ran back to the manor. “Mommy! Daddy!” he yelled out loud.

“Harry! Harry! Is anything wrong?” Mr. Malfoy’s voice coming from a far off room. Harry smiled as he waited for his family to come to him, his arm out stretched and the large snake curled around his body.

“You’ll never believe it!” He yelled when he saw Mr. Malfoy running into the room in a half-job, followed by Draco and Mrs. Malfoy. “I found a talking snake!” he grinned.

“Harry!” Mr. Malfoy said, clearly frightened by the snake curled around Harry.

“It’s okay,” Harry smiled. He turned to the snake and said, _“Tell them what you want.”_

 _“They won’t listen,”_ the snake said.

 _“Yes they will,”_ Harry pouted. He looked back at his family and said, “The snake wants to go back home in Brazil.”

Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy stared at Harry awestricken. Mr. Malfoy’s grip on his cane loosened in his shock and it fell to the floor. The cane landed with a loud smack and it seemed to snap the Malfoys out of their stupor. “Harry… can you understand what the snake is saying?” Mr. Malfoy asked carefully.

“Of course, can’t you? He’s a talking snake!” Harry said. _“You are a boy, right?”_ he asked the snake who nodded. “Yeah! He!”

“Harry dear… snakes can’t… they don’t talk,” Mrs. Malfoy said.

“But this one can!” Harry said.

“Harry, you were just hissing at the snake,” Draco said.

“No, I wasn’t! I was talking to him. In English,” Harry said, stomping his free foot in frustration. Why can’t his family understand?

“Harry, Draco is correct,” Mr. Malfoy said. “You were talking to the snake, but it was in a completely different language. The snake’s language.”

 _“Snakes have a different language?”_ Harry asked, looking at the snake.

 _“Told you kid, we can talk. Your kind just don’t listen,”_ the snake said.

“Ohhh…” Harry said, looking back at Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy and Draco. “You can’t understand him?”

“No Harry,” Mrs. Malfoy said. She cleared her throat, as if considering if she should continue her line of thought before doing so. “It seems… that you, Harry, are a Parselmouth, a person who can speak to snakes. …Just like your father.”


	6. Dumbledore Finds Harry

**The Sixth Chapter**

**Dumbledore Finds Harry**

“My Daddy can talk with snakes?” Harry asked.

“Yes,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “Your father could speak to snakes, although I am not completely sure where he got the ability. It’s hereditary, it means that it is a family gift, you got your gift from your father and he… to be honest he is the first Potter to get the gift. His parents never had the ability, nor anyone in the Potter family.” She turned to her husband and asked, “Do we still have the lineage tapestry?”

“We should,” Mr. Malfoy said. “I know your aunt had hers turned into a wall paper. Ours should be hanging somewhere. One moment.” He tapped his cane on the floor and two house-elves appeared. “Go fetch the lineage tapestry,” he said.

“Our families tend to… intertwine every now and then,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “We have a full tapestry that adds onto itself that keeps track of the ‘Sacred Twenty-Eight’ these are pureblood families who never had any muggle relatives. Your family was never a part of us, but still the tapestry should have kept track of your lineage seeing as the Potter family were purebloods.”

There was a loud crack and the two house-elves reappeared holding a gigantic rolled up tapestry between the two of them. It looked to be at least ten feet long. Mr. Malfoy took out his wand and waved it. The tapestry sprung to life and jumped out of the house-elves’ hands, unrolling itself until it was floating in the air. The tapestry was the size of a small room; family crests adorn it as names were connected with flower stems or thorns. Harry stared at it, impressed by the sheer size of the tapestry as well as the number of names that he couldn’t read. Mrs. Malfoy dismissed the elves and stood up. “Look here Harry, here you are,” she said. She pointed to a name near the bottom. It had a long thick stem connected to two other names who had similar looking last names. Harry pointed to a letter and said, “I think that one! It’s in the word ‘clockwise,’ I can read that word!”

“Really Harry? Very good,” Mrs. Malfoy chuckled. “That is the letter ‘O’ and the one before it is ‘P.’ P-O-T-T-E-R. That spells ‘Potter.’ Your first last name.”

Harry looked at the letters. He pointed his small fingers at them and repeated after Mrs. Malfoy. “P…O…T…T…E…R. Potter.”

“Good,” Mrs. Malfoy smiled. “See the long line that connected your name here to your parents name? James and…Lily…? That means that you were born from them.”

“Mummy what about this line?” Harry asked pointing to the stem that connected Harry with more names; this stem seemed to be snipped in places, the spaces in-between having small leaves.

“That just shows that you are our adopted son,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “Now let’s see… yes here is your father, James, and his father before him Fleamont. Now if we follow the Potter line… you’ll see that it is far from the Slytherin line. The Slytherin line is known for being the only family line who has the ability to speak to snakes.”

“Salazar Slytherin himself was a Parseltongue!” Draco said, jumping up to join Harry at looking at the tapestry.

“Correct,” Mr. Malfoy nodded. Draco smiled for being correct and looked at the tapestry. “There’s my name Harry,” he said pointing to his name.

“Now boys,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “If we look at the Slytherin line… they seem to die out quickly. They marry into the Gaunt family… which has connections into the Sayre family… and lastly the Steward family. All of them are gone. I believe… the Gaunt family might have been last to go, I remember stories from my grandfather about them. You remember dear? Grandfather Pollux?”

“Yes I remember; the man believed that I was a woman first time we’ve met,” Mr. Malfoy said.

Harry and Draco giggled. “Daddy a woman?” Harry laughed.

“He disliked men with long hair,” Mr. Malfoy said. “Now pay attention boys.”

They stopped their giggling and nodded.

“Thank you,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “Now let’s see… there is no real connection between Slytherin and the Potters Harry, you can see some distinct relatives but that is only after so many families have married into each other that the lineage becomes muddled. …Oh look Harry, there is where our family connects briefly.” She pointed to a name and read out, “’Charlus Potter’ married ‘Dorea Black.’ Barely a family relative but still the Potters tend to show up every now and then. Oh this actually reminds me Lucius, we should visit your father soon.”

“Of course, darling,” Mr. Malfoy said. “But I am positive that he is fine.”

“If you say so,” Mrs. Malfoy said, not entirely convinced.

“Mother,” Draco interrupted. “How would this look when Harry becomes my wife?”

“Draco!” Harry yelled in embarrassment, his cheeks flaring.

“Your… wife?” Mrs. Malfoy asked.

“Yes,” Draco nodded. “Remember when you told us that Harry’s father and Sirius Black were going to be like husband and wife? Well Blaise said that Harry is going to be his wife because he taught Harry his first word to read but I told him that he can’t because he’s my brother now and also on Christmas I kissed him under the miss-til-toe so that means that Harry’s going to be my wife. So how is the tapestry going to look when Harry becomes my wife?”

Harry sank to the floor in embarrassment, his blushing face hidden under his hands. “Harry, stand up. Malfoys don’t curl up like that,” Mr. Malfoy said. Harry groaned but stood up, his face still buried in his hands.

“Draco…” Mrs. Malfoy said carefully. “Harry… Harry cannot be your wife, or Blaise’s.”

“Why not?” Draco asked.

“Well, he’s a boy,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “Boys cannot be wives. Only girls. And I am sure Harry doesn’t want to be a girl,” she chuckled. Harry shook his head frantically. “See? Harry can only be a husband.”

“Then what will it look like when Harry becomes my husband?” Draco asked.

“Well…that depends if Harry wants to do that,” Mrs. Malfoy said.

“He does! He’s going to marry me not Blaise!” Draco said.

“Harry? What do you say about this?” Mrs. Malfoy asked.

Harry looked up at Mrs. Malfoy. “I umm like both of them,” he said between his fingers.

“Well that’s that Draco,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “You’ll just have to see how your relationships develop when you turn older.”

“What do you mean? Harry’s my husband!” Draco stomped.

“Draco Malfoy you will stop acting like that and listen to your mother!” Mr. Malfoy said sternly.

“Yes father,” Draco said, looking forlorn. He looked at Mrs. Malfoy and said, “Sorry mother…”

“It is fine Draco,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “Now as for your question, whoever Harry will marry will get a full stem like the one between your father and I,” she pointed to the long green stem that connected her name with Mr. Malfoy’s. “But that is not until years from now, when both of you graduate from Hogwarts. Now Harry, as to my original point… it is a pure mystery to how James became a Parseltongue. Delilah, Blaise’s mother, would know more about him than either your father or I would. You can ask her the next time she comes over.”

“Okay Mummy,” Harry said.

“Good. Now why don’t you pick up that snake and… return him? I’m sure he’ll find his way home by himself,” Mrs. Malfoy said.

“Oh!” Harry looked around, finding the snake he brought in lying.  next to him. He forgot he brought the snake in. “Okay Mummy…” he said, looking sad.

“Good. And afterwards take a bath,” Mrs. Malfoy said. Harry nodded and picked the snake up. _“Sorry… Mommy said we can’t help you,”_ He said to the snake, who just nodded. Harry walked outside with it, placed the snake in the garden and looked around. _“I’m sure there are lots of tasty food here! You could stay here!”_

_“No.”_

_“Oh… okay then. Bye Mr. snake,”_ Harry waved the snake goodbye before turning back inside to take a bath.

 

Mrs. Zabini arrived five days later with Blaise. As soon as they arrived Draco and Harry ran down to greet their friend like they always do but Harry looked at Mrs. Zabini and said, “Umm… Mrs. Zabini? Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“I want to talk with you about my father…” Harry said.

“Ohh… okay,” Mrs. Zabini said. She patted the seat next to her. “This is going to take a while. I know many things Harry, it’s can be seen as my job.”

Mrs. Malfoy laughed. “What is it you liked to say when you were younger?”

“I drink and I know things,” Mrs. Zabini smirked as Harry climbed up on the small sofa Mrs. Zabini was sitting on. He looked apprehensively at Draco and Blaise. He wanted to talk with Mrs. Zabini alone about his father. She seemed to have understand Harry’s want as she looked at the two and said, “Go play while we talk with Harry.”

Draco looked as if he wanted to stay but Blaise took his hand and pulled him away from the two mothers and Harry. Alone Mrs. Zabini turned to Harry and asked, “What do you want to know about James?”

“Everything! How is he a Parselmouth? Why did he marry my mother and not Sirius Black? What type of person was he in Hogwarts? Where is Sirius Black and why can’t we visit him?” Harry said in rapid succession.

Mrs. Zabini held out a hand and Harry stopped talking immediately. “Don’t talk to fast child, it’ll make you seem desperate, which is a very ugly trait when you grow up. Now Your father’s a Parselmouth because he was born one. I’m impressed you even know the word. Is it because you’re one?”

“Mmhmm,” Harry nodded.

“Well then Cissy, I am impressed,” Mrs. Zabini said. “Looks like Even’s blood didn’t push away his gift. Lovely. I don’t know from who he got his Parselmouth from, but I am sure Black does. Those boys knew everything about each other. Which I suppose is a given seeing as how they sleep in the same bed—“

“Draco and I sleep in the same bed sometimes!” Harry piped up.

“Not that way,” Mrs. Zabini said. “But those two were inseparable from each other up until the day your daddy decided he liked girls all of a sudden. It was…I think a year after he and Sirius graduated. Because that was the year for some reason he stopped talking with us. Let’s see we were all around eighteen, nineteen years old and it was during the war. Now your Daddy was so different from your grandparents, Harry, it is truly something.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked.

“Well, that boy was just about a lion in sheep’s clothing as you can get,” Mrs. Zabini said. “There was no way that boy was one hundred percent Gryffindor, no way. If you ask me, he just didn’t want to be in the same House as Severus.”

“Yeah, I would believe that,” Mrs. Malfoy said. Harry didn’t care to ask who this Severus person was.

“Anyway, your father and I used to be real close, we sent letters to each other almost daily. Oh, the sass the boy had would make your mother here blush Harry,” Mrs. Zabini chuckled. “There was never a joke or comeback that he couldn’t think up of. Of course, his sass seemed to leak to his two best friends.”

“He had friends?” Harry asked, shocked.

“Of course, he did,” Mrs. Zabini said. “You honestly didn’t think your daddy would go through seven years of Hogwarts without earning at least one friend? One of them was Sirius of course, they got together basically the moment they set eyes on each other. I remember one time, there was a rumor that Professor McGonagall found the two snogging in the common room in their second year. You can imagine how flabbergasted and outraged she was. Anyway, your father’s second friend was a boy named Remus Lupin. …Yes Lupin. Sorry, but I don’t exactly know what’s he been up to lately. But during Hogwarts it was the three of them: James, Sirius, and Remus.”

“What about that Pettigrew kid?” Mrs. Malfoy asked. “The one that’s always following them around?”

“Oh him? Cissy that boy was no friend of James,” Mrs. Zabini said. “James called him very terrible things in his letters to me. Things that I will not say in front of your child. That boy was more like a hapless follower. I mean look at what that idiot did during the war! Can’t pick one side, honestly.”

“Yes well… you have to remember that umm…” Mrs. Malfoy’s eyes glanced at Harry. “We haven’t told much about the war to Harry, Delilah. And I wish that you wouldn’t reveal things that we don’t know truly ourselves.”

“It was just a rumor anyway,” Mrs. Zabini said. “Is there any harm in telling the boy the rumor?”

“No but… we don’t want to hurt him,” Mrs. Malfoy said.

“What rumor? What rumor?” Harry jumped in his seat. “Is it about my father? Please tell me, I can take it, I promise!”

“Well… you heard the boy,” Mrs. Zabini said.

“Fine, but I am telling him. I’m his mother,” Mrs. Malfoy said. She turned to Harry and said, “There was a rumor that your father… has been seen talking with the Dark Lord on multiple occasions. We don’t know where the rumors come from or who started it, or even if it was even true. None of his followers were brave enough to ask him.”

“Sirius would know,” Mrs. Zabini said. “But he’s in Azkaban, and Harry sorry but no one is allowed to visit Azkaban.”

“Why not?” Harry asked.

“There are nasty creatures in that place; dementors for instance. They’re creatures that can suck out all of your happiness out of your body. You can never think of a happy thought. They’re patrolling Azkaban, and because of that, and the general location of it, no one wants to visit it,” Mrs. Zabini said.

“The only ones who are allowed are high-ranking Ministry officials,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “But they hate going there so they seldom… barely do it.”

“Ohh… but why is Sirius Black in there?” Harry asked. “What did he do?”

“For now, let’s just say that… he did some horrible things to thirteen muggles and Pettigrew,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “I’ll explain more when you’re older. I promise.”

“Ohh… okay,” Harry said, looking disappointed.

“Is that all you wanted to know?” Mrs. Zabini asked.

“There’s one more…” Harry said. He became suddenly very sheepish. “Did… did my dad… did he love my mum?”

An uncomfortable silence fell upon the room. Mrs. Malfoy and Mrs. Zabini looked at each other, at a lost on how they should answer, before staring at the small boy who looked so much like his father sitting before them. Mrs. Malfoy sighed. “No… he loved Sirius,” she said, breaking the silence.

“Oh. … … … did he love me, Mummy?” Harry asked looking up at Mrs. Malfoy.

“Of course he did Harry, of course he did,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “Your father loved you very much, just like how Lucius and I love you now.”

“Thank you Mummy… and thank you Mrs. Zabini,” Harry said. “Can I go play now?”

“Of course Harry,” Mrs. Malfoy said.

Harry slipped off of the seat and silent made his way out of the room, leaving the two women to themselves as Harry walked his way up to Draco’s room, his little mind too filled with confusion and doubt. “Oh Harry,” Mrs. Malfoy said , walking into the foyer and looking at her son who was halfway up the stairs. “You and Draco are starting lessons tomorrow. It is quite time you both learn to read and write.”

“Yes Mummy,” Harry said.

The next day a mean-looking woman came. She had a sharp nose and a dower expression. She had Draco and Harry sitting in uncomfortable chairs, and when Harry ask her why Mummy wasn’t teaching them, the mean-looking woman snapped saying that Mrs. Malfoy was too busy to teach them, and that she was the best in the business. He and Draco spent the entire day learning letters. The mean-looking woman left during the afternoon and the boys ran up to Mrs. Malfoy to complain. “Boys! Enough,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “Your father and I cannot teach you we are both too busy with our work.”

“But Mummy she’s mean!” Harry said.

“Harry that’s enough,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “She is going to keep teaching you until you’ve learn the basics of reading and writing. So the quicker it takes you to learn, the quicker she will leave.”

“Yes mother,” Draco sighed.

“Harry?”

“Yes Mummy,” Harry said. The boys looked at each other, both deciding to just get it over with.

The woman came back for the next few months. Every day she showed up after breakfast and stayed till lunch time teaching them the alphabet and how to use said alphabet to spell words. Sometimes during the lessons, she would tell Harry and Draco about the other children she had to teach such as a very spoilt girl named Pansy and a boy who seemed to be a genius named Theodore. Harry and Draco learned their alphabet and how to write their name. The mean-looking woman with the hooked nose had them write the letters repeating with these weird feathers she called quills. It’s weird writing with quills, Harry decided. He remembered Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia writing with things called pencils and pens. It was very hard to write with the quills, Harry decided. His handwriting was very uneven and looked as if he was scratching into the paper whereas Draco’s, while still very kiddish, looked more like he was drawing his name. The woman snapped at Harry whenever he wrote his name wrong. She once slapped her wand against Harry’s knuckles in frustration of his horrible handwriting, but the moment she done that Harry ran crying to Mr. Malfoy, causing the door to slam off its doorframe accidently, and after the mean-looking woman and Mr. Malfoy had a long talk she never even looked in Harry’s direction with as much as a glare.

It was the end of May when the woman finally left, her job done. Harry and Draco could recite their alphabet and write common words like their names; their favorite animals (it took Harry two weeks to learn to write ‘Basilisk’ correctly) and their parents’ names. The boys were playing in the garden, flying around about a foot off the air on their brooms, when they heard Mr. Malfoy’s raised voice yell, “What are you doing in my house?”

They heard an equally loud voice saying, “Where is Harry Potter? You are the last family I am visiting so he must be here!”

“Dumbledore you have no right to come into my home like this! Do not walk into here!” Mr. Malfoy yelled.

Harry looked at his brother. “Should we go see what’s going on?”

“I don’t know… father sounds really mad,” Draco said.

“Yeah but wouldn’t you want to know why Daddy’s mad?” Harry asked.

Draco looked at him for a moment. In the background more raised voices were heard. Draco’s curiosity started to itch him and he nodded. “Yeah I do,” he said.

“Then come on!” Harry said hopping off of his broom. He started to run, his little legs beating against the ground as Draco followed, and got in front of him. They stopped when they reached the door to their home and Draco opened the door for Harry. They walked inside and continued through the corridor until they reached the foyer where Mr. Malfoy was in, along with a tall man with long silver hair and beard. They both looked very cross at each other.

“I will not ask you again Dumbledore, leave my home immediately,” Mr. Malfoy said.

“Harry Potter has been missing for near a year now,” the man named Dumbledore said. “I know that he is in the Wizarding World, living with a wizarding family and you are the last one. Do not test my patience Mr. Malfoy and tell me where the boy is!”

“And I will not as long as you invade my homestead,” Mr. Malfoy said back. Harry and Draco peeked around the corner of a wall, keeping mostly out of sight.

“Who is the old man?” Harry whispered to Draco.

“Albus Dumbledore,” Draco whispered. “He’s the Headmaster at Hogwarts.”

Their voices seemed to have caught Dumbledore’s attention as he turned towards them. “Harry!” he said immediately, striding past Mr. Malfoy and towards the two four-year-olds. “Harry, there you are,” he said.

Draco stood in front of Harry as they came into the corridor.

“Boys what are you doing? Go back to the gardens,” Mr. Malfoy said.

“We heard yelling and Harry wanted us to go look,” Draco said.

Dumbledore stopped in front of them.

“Dumbledore, step away from my sons,” Mr. Malfoy said.

“Sons? Harry Potter is not your son, he should not be here,” Dumbledore said. “He should be with his relatives in Privet Drive.”

“No, he belongs here as he is my son,” Mr. Malfoy said strictly. “Now get out before I am forced to notify the Department of Law Enforcement about your invasion of my privacy.”

“Harry Potter is not your privacy,” Dumbledore said. He turned to Harry and said quickly, “Harry, who are you? What are you doing here?”

“My full name is Harry James Potter-Malfoy. I live in Malfoy Manor in Whitshire with my brother Draco, my Daddy Lucius and Mummy Narcissa Malfoy. My father was James Potter and my Mother was Lily Evens. Though my godfather Sirius Black was supposed to marry my father until for some reason my father fell in love with my mother,” Harry said.

Dumbledore turned to Harry, enraged. “What did you do to the child?”

“Adopted him and told him about his birth parents,” Mr. Malfoy said. “Now please get out.”

“Lucius, you have done a dangerous thing bringing the boy into our world,” Dumbledore said.

“Dangerous?” Mr. Malfoy scoffed. “What was truly dangerous was leaving the boy with muggles when he was supposed to go to his godfather Sirius Black.”

“It was for his own good, the boy would be forced to live in the limelight of every wizard’s attention of he lived in our world!” Dumbledore yelled.

“Limelight? The boy has been with us for nearly a year Dumbledore and look what happened: not a single article about the boy! There is no limelight or paparazzi here! You are being mad,” Mr. Malfoy said.

“I will not allow Harry to live in his household,” Dumbledore said loudly. He turned with a swish of his robes and walked away, leaving the manor. Nobody said anything as they watched the man leave Malfoy Manor, disappearing out of sight.

“Daddy… he’s not going to take me away is he?” Harry asked, being very frightened.

“Of course, not Harry. You are my son. You are as part of this family as Draco is,” Mr. Malfoy said.

“Thank you, Daddy,” Harry said and surprising the man as he hugged him. The patriarch was shocked for a moment but patted Harry’s shoulder as he said, “You are welcome Harry, go back to the garden with your brother.”

 

Dumbledore arrived immediately at the Ministry of Magic. He made his way to the Minister’s office and knocked before entering. “Minister Bagnold, we need to speak immediately.”

“Professor Dumbledore, how can I help you with?” Millicent Bagnold asked. “Shouldn’t you be at Hogwarts?”

“I will return there once our meeting is over,” Dumbledore said. “I have something of an urgent manner to discuss with you with.”

“What is it?” Minister Bagnold asked.

“Harry Potter,” Dumbledore said. “James and Lily’s son.”

“Potter? What of the boy?”

“Nearly a year ago the boy was lost from his muggle relatives only to be found by a wizarding family. Worried for his safety, I started looking for the boy only to find him today in the hands of the Malfoys. Somehow they have found the boy and convinced him that they are his family,” Dumbledore said. “We must take the boy away from the Malfoys for his own safety.”

“Ahh, I remember now,” the Minister said. “I’ve ran into Mr. Malfoy and the boy months ago. He was finalizing the adoption if I remember correctly.”

“Adoption? So it is true?” Dumbledore asked.

“What? That Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy are Harry’s parents? Legally yes. Harry Potter has been living with the Malfoys for most a year,” Minister Bagnold said. “If he had muggle relatives, then they should have notify the muggle authorities which, as far as I know, they did not. Besides it looks like the boy is better off here; I mean he is a wizard after all. Lucius was complaining a couple months back about how the boy accidently made a couple of doors fall off its hinges. A muggle just isn’t fit to raise a magical child.”

“But they are his family, his blood,” Dumbledore insisted. “The boy has a right to be raised by his family, not the Malfoys.”

“That may be so Albus, but Harry Potter is now the Malfoy’s child,” Minister Bagnold said. “You cannot simply take the boy from them and deposit him back to the muggles, not after seeing our world. It would be like taking the same child out of a candy store and straight into the dentist. He just wouldn’t have it.”

“Harry Potter was living in the muggle world? My how exotic,” a female voice said. Dumbledore and Minister Bagnold turned to see a woman wearing a scarlet dress and horn-rimmed glasses. She had blonde hair set in elaborate curls and was carrying a crocodile-skin handbag, which she was looking through to pull out something.

“What are you doing here Skeeter?” the Minister asked.

“Oh just my duty Minister,” Rita Skeeter smiled. “I saw Albus Dumbledore running through the Ministry and my journalism sense just flared.” She pulled out a quill and notepad. “So what is this about Harry Potter living with muggles? It sounds so scandalous.”

“Rita, no. Get out,” Minister Bagnold said.

“The readers have a right to know where the Boy-Who-Lived currently resides, Minister,” Skeeter said in a sing-song voice, already writing down in her notepad.

“Harry Potter lives with his muggles, that is true, but he is currently residing, wrongfully, with a wizarding family,” Dumbledore said.

“Ohh, now nice,” Skeeter smiled. “The readers will go wild for that. Imagine: Everyone trying for a chance to have the Boy-Who-Lived live with them.”

“That is a ridiculous notion Rita. The boy is with his legal parents now; they have adopted him nearly a year ago,” the Minister said.

“Legal parents who were once suspected Death Eaters,” Dumbledore said. “I am only thinking of the boy’s safety.”

“Safety? I see his father constantly,” the Minister said, seemingly forgetting Rita Skeeter as she writes in her notepad. “If he was dangerous for Harry, then I am pretty sure that I would know. And if you remember, he was under the Imperius Curse during the war.”

“Yes he was, or appeared to be,” Dumbledore said. “All I am saying is that we need to consider Harry’s safety.”

“You know that the boy will refuse to leave our world Albus, and he has legal custody over Harry,” the Minister said. “What are you going to suggest? That we hold the boy on auction or something?”

“No, that is ridiculous,” Dumbledore said. “Inhumane… I would never do that.”

“Then what? Force him to his muggle relatives?” the Minister demanded.

“If I cannot give Harry what is best for him, then I can only see once choice Millicent, though I hate to bring this matter to them,” Dumbledore said.

“Are you mad Albus? Considering to bring the matter to a full court?” the Minister said.

“We must decide what is best for young Harry, and I see that we are in a standstill. If you continue to refuse to rightfully bring him back to his muggle relatives, then I must insist that he be relocated to a better magical family than the one he currently is in,” Dumbledore said.

“This is madness!” Minister Bagnold said, throwing her hands into the air.

“I agree,” Rita Skeeter said looking up from her notepad. “But the readers will simply love it. Thank you Minister, Dumbledore, for this lovely information. I’m sure this will reach the front page of tomorrow’s paper! Good day!” She smiled and waved as she left, stowing her quill and notepad into her crocodile-skin bag. She closed the door behind her.

Minister Bagnold turned to Dumbledore. “What were you thinking talking in front of her?” she demanded.

“I am sorry Minister, my tongue slipped and my mind spoke,” Dumbledore said. “You must believe me when I say that I worry for the boy’s safety.”

“I believe that you are worried Dumbledore, but you have to understand that there is nothing you can do. He is Lucius’s son now, and by the sound of it, he is living a happy life,” Minister Bagnold said. “Besides from what Lucius had told me, his previous life with the muggles have been less than happy, to put it lightly. You are just going to accept that facts that Harry is better off in our world and as a Malfoy.”

Dumbledore stared at her for a moment. “Very well… I will accept that Harry is, in fact, better off here in the wizarding world. However, I must still insist on the safety hazard he currently has living with the Malfoys. Therefore, we shall leave it up to the full Wizengamot to decide where he should be living,” Dumbledore said.

“Fine, fine,” Minister Bagnold said. “It’s not like they will even agree to talk about this lunacy. You will see Dumbledore, that they will rule what I have just told you: Harry Malfoy is precisely that: A Malfoy. He may still retain his father’s last name, but from all legal stand-points he is a Malfoy. Now, if you excuse me, I will not have to organize this ridiculous trial. I will owl you the date when I have one.”

“Thank you, Millicent,” Dumbledore smiled. “I am sure that at the end of this, the boy will not only be safe, but happy as well.”

“I hope so Dumbledore. He’s going to need it now that we accidently sent Skeeter onto him. Good day.”

“Good day.”


	7. Harry Malfoy's Trial

**The Seventh Chapter**

**Harry Malfoy’s Trial**

**_HARRY POTTER LIVES!_ **

_We all know the story of The Boy-Who-Lived and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. One stormy Halloween night, the Potters cozy in their homes were just about to go to sleep with their one-year old infant after a tiring day when all of a sudden, he strikes. Invading their home and heartlessly murdering the parents, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named turned his sights on a little defenseless baby, not even one-year old. Surely this was going to be the end of the child’s all to brief life! But somehow when the Dark Lord strikes the killing blow the boy survives! Leaving only a lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead. This is the heroic story of Harry Potter. And it is this reporter’s great duty to announce to you all that Harry Potter is back in the wizarding world! There have been many questions after that faithful night: Where did the boy go? Who is raising him? Is the boy even safe?_

_Today we are finally getting the answers to these questions, and delve into the scandal that is Harry Potter’s living conditions. This information comes from two respectable sources who, for both their safety as well as my own, will remain anonymous._

_We all have been wondering where Harry Potter went to after that night. The answer? Apparently Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, had muggle relatives where he spent a majority of his small life ignorant of his magical heritage! One of my anonymous sources confirms that this decision was made for the boy’s safety, hiding him away from any remaining Death Eaters who would want to avenge their lord. But now the Death Eaters are gone as well as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. That just leaves the question: Do we still need to worry about Harry Potter’s safety? And how did he get to a wizarding family?_

_Somehow, someway, Harry Potter got away from his muggle relatives and found himself in the home of a wizarding family, a wizarding family who is currently anonymous but works for my second anonymous source. This family adopted little Harry, and cared for him for almost a year! But here lies the problem. My first source declares that the patriarch of the family was once a suspected Death Eater, the same people who the source was trying to hide Harry from, but my second source, who has all authority, states that the patriarch has been cleared of all suspicious, being forced to act under the Imperious Curse and is now a loving father for his new son._

_My sources have conflicting ideas that culminated to this ultimatum: Should Harry Potter stay with his current family?_

_Should Harry stay with his family of a year in the Wizarding World, despite the allegations of being Death Eaters? Or should he be forced to return to the Muggle world and never think or see magic until the age of eleven, seven years down the road? Or, perhaps, Should Harry Potter be removed from his current wizarding family and placed in a better, more loving one? These questions where thrown into this argument of ideas that this reporter has witnessed, and it all culminated into one decision._

_Harry Potter is going to trial; and us, the Wizarding community, will decide where he lives as this issue is taken to a full Wizengamot. While this reporter wishes to be natural, she cannot help but think that if Harry Potter should live in the Wizarding World, shouldn’t it be with a family who was with the Ministry through the entirety of the war? What do you think? Send your comments to the_ Daily Prophet _headquarters in Diagon Alley and let your voice be heard!_

“Despicable woman!” Mr. Malfoy snarled at the breakfast table. “To think that anyone would be foolish enough to—I’d sued her in an instance for reporting about Harry!”

Harry turned his head at the mention of his name. “Daddy… what is it?” he asked.

“Hmm? It is nothing for you to worry about Harry,” Mr. Malfoy said, giving the newspaper to his wife. “It is just something that adults have to deal with.”

“Okay Daddy,” Harry said, turning back to his breakfast. Mr. Malfoy looked at Mrs. Malfoy, both of them sharing a nervous expression.

“Lucius… do you really think,” Mrs. Malfoy began.

“Of course not, it is simply too stupid,” Mr. Malfoy said. “Bagnold would never allow for this to happen. This will die before it can even begin. He is our son Narcissa, our son. They can’t take him away from us.”

“Daddy… what did the newspaper say?” Harry asked, looking extremely scared. “Please tell me.”

“I told you, it is nothing to worry about,” Mr. Malfoy said.

“But Daddy—“

“We should tell him a little bit Lucius, it involves him,” Mrs. Malfoy said. Mr. Malfoy huffed. “Harry… the article is about you. …It seems that, well, somehow the _Daily Prophet_ found out that you’re living with us. Not that they know it is us, exactly, but you’re living in the wizarding world. But now the reporter is questioning whether you should stay with us, go back to your muggle relatives, or move to a different family.”

“It is simply ludicrous Harry,” Mr. Malfoy said. “Child’s logic.”

“They’re not going to take me away are they?” Harry asked, looking scared. “They’re not going to take me away from my brother?”

“No! I won’t let them!” Draco huffed.

“They won’t don’t you worry,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “Bagnold won’t even let this get to even a quarter of the Wizengamot.”

Harry didn’t know what the Wizengamot was, but it sounded important. But still it didn’t sooth his worries. “They’re not going to take me away?” he asked for a third time.

“No Harry, they will not,” Mr. Malfoy said. “Don’t worry about it.”

Harry frowned but nodded, his worries not exactly relieved. He and Draco returned to Draco’s room to play for a while before their next tutor shows up. This tutor was a bit nicer than the mean woman with the hooked nose. He continued their learning of the alphabet and spelling and writing, but also starting this thing called counting which Blaise boasted that he could count all the way to twenty. Harry also began learning his months and days of the week. He learned that they were in June, the sixth month of the year, that that next month was July which was when his birthday was.

It near the end of June that Millicent Bagnold, the Minister of Magic, came into Malfoy Manor looking both very annoyed and apologetic. “Lucius, Narcissa, can I talk with you?” she asked.

“Of course, Minister,” Mr. Malfoy said. “Boys, go to your rooms,” he turned to his sons. They left the drawing room where they were practicing their spelling, only for Harry to grab Draco by his shirt and keep him by the door out of sight.

“I cannot believe it got to this point,” the Minister said. “This whole thing is a fiasco. I’m getting letters every day from families asking for me to bring this to a trial, to let them raise Harry.”

“But you are going to do nothing, correct?” Mr. Malfoy asked.

“That is what I’ve been trying to do but the community is forcing my hand! Even Fudge and Crouch are getting in on this craze,” Bagnold said. “My popularity is taking a nose-dive, there are talks of holding an election early for the next Minister of Magic, and now I am starting to get anonymous threats to hold this trial. Why just this morning I’ve received a letter with a Horn-Growing Hex attached to it.”

“But still, you are going to do nothing. Correct, Minister?” Mr. Malfoy repeated.

“The other members of the Wizengamot met without my knowing and agreed to bring this to trial,” Bagnold sighed. “At this point is should be nothing to worry about. We’ll just show them the adoption papers, tell them a bit about Harry’s life with the muggles. And you’ll be home in time for dinner. It is just an annoying process at this point.”

Mr. Malfoy frowned. “That is not good enough Minister. We need to know that there is no way of Harry leaving his family before we even discuss attending to this ridiculous trial!”

“Do not yell at me Lucius! I am not the one who started this!” Bagnold yelled.

“Then stop it! Use your power as a Minister to stop it!” Mr. Malfoy yelled back.

“I tried! And they out voted me every time! This is not a dictatorship Lucius, you should know that by now,” the Minister said. “The trial is Friday at ten in the morning. I suggest your whole family show up. It is in Courtroom Ten, I assume that you know where it is.”

“I do,” Mr. Malfoy said, his voice icy.

“Good. Then I’ll see you Friday,” the Minister sighed before mumbling about something Harry couldn’t hear.

“Minister, just know that when it is time for your reelection, I will not be voting for you,” Mr. Malfoy said.

“Wasn’t planning on that Malfoy. See you Friday,” Minister Bagnold said, turning to leave.

Harry had nightmares ever since the Minister came. He dreamt of shadowy people breaking into his home and dragging him away from Draco. They both were crying; Mr. Malfoy was yelling at somebody he couldn’t see; and Mrs. Malfoy stomped around like a banshee. Every night Harry woke up crying and running to Draco to make sure he was still there. When he was sure that his adopted brother was in his room and sleeping, Harry padded his way to Mummy and Daddy’s room all the way on the other side of the house to make sure they were there too. Once he was fully sure they were all in their beds and sleeping, Harry returned to his bed (this normally took half an hour) and returned to sleep. The _Daily Prophet_ kept issuing articles about Harry and who could be raising him. There were responses from many witches and wizards who said that their home would be best for Harry, all of them weren’t his Mummy and Daddy. When Friday arrived, Harry woke up with a pit in his stomach. He found that he couldn’t eat any of his breakfast. The best he could do was nibble on some toast and take small sips of his juice.

The Malfoys were dressed in their best. Mrs. Malfoy wore a dress and robe that she normally saved for holidays and special occasions; Mr. Malfoy wore a smart-looking black robe over his freshly ironed black button-down shirt and pants. In his gloved hands, he held his cane. Both Harry and Draco were wearing small emerald button-down shirts and black slacks. Draco’s hair was combed perfectly while Harry’s looked somewhat decent, his normally messy rat’s nest of black hair looking purposefully messy. Harry and Draco held hands as they traveled to the Ministry via the Floo Network. Mr. Malfoy went first, followed by the boys and Mrs. Malfoy last.

It was nine thirty when they arrived at the Ministry and Harry felt like everyone was staring at them as Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy walked them to the elevators. “This is completely unnecessary,” Mr. Malfoy grumbled to his wife. “Keep close boys.”

Draco and Harry nodded, their hands tightening to each other as they walked into the elevators. Mr. Malfoy hit the button for the lowest level and they waited in their corner as the elevator filled. It was very cramped; Harry and Draco were pushed into a corner as paper airplanes hovered above them. “They’re memos,” Harry whispered to Draco. “I remember Daddy telling me that.”

Draco nodded.

The elevator started moving down. The Malfoy family stayed till it reached the last level, Harry wasn’t paying too much attention to what the woman’s voice was saying, too nervous about the trial to even hear properly. He followed Mr. Malfoy through narrow corridors, their footsteps echoing on the wooden floor in the empty corridors. Mr. Malfoy led them to a huge wooden door, which led to a wide area with rising benches sitting against the walls. They all faced a wooden chair that sat in the middle of the room, chains connected to the feet and arms. The sight of it made Harry scared. They weren’t going to make him sit in that chair are they?

“Honestly,” Mr. Malfoy huffed looking at his watch. “We are ten minutes early and nobody is here.”

“Daddy… am I going to have to sit in that chair?” Harry asked nervously, pointing to the chair with chains.

“Of course not Harry,” Mr. Malfoy said. “If they even insist that, we are leaving.”

A door opened from the side and Harry looked to see a middle-aged man wearing a bowler hat walking in. “Ohh Lucius, you’re hear already good. And you’re with Mr. Potter… wait…”

“Hello Cornelius, if you would kindly as to address my son correctly,” Mr. Malfoy said.

Cornelius’s eyes bulge like saucers. “Your son?” he gasped.

“That is correct,” Mr. Malfoy said. “And I expect for you to change the seating here Fudge,” he pointed his cane to the long chair.

“Oh um yes… one second,” Cornelius Fudge said. He took out his wand and pointed it at the chair. Mumbling something Harry couldn’t hear, the chair magically turned into four regular wooden chairs. Mr. Malfoy just raised an eyebrow, as if silently asking Fudge if he was serious. Fudge blabbered some more and with a wave of his wand a throw pillow was added on the seat of each chair.

“Incompetent as always,” Mr. Malfoy sighed. He took his cane in his hands and pulled at the handle, removing his wand from the cane and with a swift flick the four wooden chairs turned into four armchairs that looked identical to the ones in his home.

“Oh you’re here, good,” Minister Bagnold said walking in as Harry climbed onto his seat. “And it’s just Fudge and us? Wonderful. Let’s get this over before the others get here.”

“Minister! Are you sure?” Fudge gasped. “This is a matter of most importance—why else are we gathering in this courtroom?”

“Because Rita Skeeter took this private matter into the public, and I would rather finish this ludicrous business before lunch time Mr. Fudge,” Minister Bagnold said. “Now since at least two members of the Wizengamot is here, we can begin.”

“I would beg you be patient Minister,” an old man’s deep voice said as the door opened for a third time. Harry turned in his chair to see Professor Dumbledore walking in. “I agree with Cornelius Fudge here, and think we should wait for all members to come.”

“Professor Dumbledore… I didn’t believe you would show up,” Minister Bagnold said, looking extremely disappointed. She sighed. “Very well… we’ll wait. But the trial begins proper at ten precisely. No matter how many, or few, members there are.”

“Of course, Minister,” Dumbledore bowed and turned to sit on the lowest level of the stone benches.

The Minister sighed and relaxed back into her seat. “Might as well get comfy Harry,” she said. “We’re going to have to wait. Not to worry, you’ll be back home before you realize you skipped lunch.”

Harry just nodded and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He stared at his lap for the next ten minutes. Most of the other members of the Wizengamot were late, but much to Mr. Malfoy’s annoyance, slowly each and every one turned up until every seat in the raised benchers were full, all of them staring down at Harry and his family, trading whispers.

“Mr. Malfoy,” one of the adults sitting said, “What are you doing here?”

“Apparently defending my right to raise my son,” Mr. Malfoy said, annoyed. “If everyone is here Minister, I suggest we get this over with.”

“I know, relax,” the Minister sighed. She looked around.

“Minister, if you would, as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, I believe that I should overlook this case,” Dumbledore said standing up.

“I’m sorry Dumbledore, but since you are in a bias position in this manner, being the person who first suggest we removed Harry Malfoy from his family, your duties of Chief Warlock will be held temporarily for this case,” the Minister said. “However, as a member of the Wizengamot you will still let your voice be heard.”

“Thank you Minister,” Dumbledore said, bowing slightly.

“Right… Harry, can you please tell the court your full name please?” The Minister asked.

“Go on Harry,” Mrs. Malfoy whispered.

Harry nodded. “My name is Harry James Potter-Malfoy. There is a hi-fan between Potter and Malfoy—“

“Hyphen Harry, it’s pronounced hyphen,” Mr. Malfoy said automatically.

“Sorry, umm hyphen between Potter and Malfoy. That is so I can be my Mummy’s and Daddy’s son while also… keeping my inher—inheri—inherit—“ Harry struggled with the word and looked at Mr. Malfoy for help.

“Inheritance,” Mr. Malfoy said. “He is retaining the Potter name to keep his inheritance from his father, as well as to keep the family alive.”

“I would ask that only Mr. Potter would speak right now,” Dumbledore said.

“I was merely helping my son with two words that he has difficulty pronouncing Dumbledore,” Mr. Malfoy shot back. “In case you haven’t noticed, he is a four-year-old boy.”

“Yes, I am sure we are all aware of Harry’s age, Lucius, and because of that Dumbledore, and his difficulty with certain words, Mr. Malfoy is allowed to correct pronunciations, but only pronunciations,” Minister Bagnold said. Mr. Malfoy nodded while Dumbledore held a sour look.

“Now… Harry,” Minister Bagnold said. “You live with Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy at their manor in Wiltshire, correct?”

“Yes and Draco too,” Harry said.

“How long have you been living with the Malfoys?”

“Umm… “ Harry looked at his fingers and began counting.

“May I answer this one, Minister?” Mr. Malfoy said.

“No—“

“Yes, and Albus please remember your position in this case.”

“Harry has been living with us since mid-November,” Mr. Malfoy said.

“Is that true Harry?” Dumbledore asked.

Harry looked up from his fingers. “November is the month with eleven, right?”

“That’s correct Harry, you’re very smart,” the Minister nodded.

“Then yes! I started living with Mummy and Daddy in November,” Harry said.

“Do you remember how and why you started living with the Malfoys?” the Minister asked.

Harry frowned and nodded.

“Can you tell us?” the Minister asked.

Harry looked at Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, silently asking them if it’s okay to tell the fifty people staring at him. He just realized that somebody was writing down all of his responses and that made him even more nervous.

“Harry, look at the Minister,” Dumbledore said.

Harry jumped and turned his head. “I lived with my Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia,” he said. “They’re muggles; my mother’s family. They didn’t like me. They made me do chores! All of the chores! Like staying outside all day to pull the weeds from the flowerbed and push the heavy lawnmower that’s twice my height. When I’m done Aunt Petunia hoses me down to clean me and I have to go inside and do my indoor chores like vacuuming with the vacuum that’s too big for me and too heavy. All while Dudley sits around getting fat and eats cake! Sometimes Dudley would drop his cake and get me in trouble for it! When that happens they sent me to my room which is the cupboard under the stairs. They keep me there for days sometimes, not feeding me or anything. One time… one time they kept me in there for so long I peed my pants,” Harry’s face looked crimson as he buried his embarrassment in his hands.

“Hold on,” a female voice said. “You are telling us, Harry, that your family relatives had you living under a staircase where they stared you for days?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Harry nodded his head in his embarrassed hands.

“Write down that Harry nodded to the question,” the Minister whispered to the person writing. “How did you get from your muggle relatives to the Malfoys?” she asked Harry.

“We were on the way to the park,” Harry said, looking up from his hands but keeping his eyes closed as he did his best to remember. “My Aunt, Uncle, cousin and his friend and me. I went on the swing and I got really high when my cousin and his friend threw this rock at me, it was a very big rock. It hit me in the heat when I was really high and I fell. But I didn’t hit the ground at the park. I hit the ground at my new home instead somehow.”

“Accidental Magic… interesting,” The Minister said. “After hearing how they’ve treated you, there is no way we can return Harry to these muggles, is there?” She looked expectedly at the fifty others, who were mostly nodding in agreement. “Then let us settle this silly issue of Harry living with the Malfoys,” she said.

“Minister, I have expressed my concerns to you privately, but allow me to expand them here,” Dumbledore said. “My main concern is with Harry’s safety. What I say is of no offense to the Malfoy family, but with their alleged ties to the Dark Arts as well as their history of pureblood supremacy, they might not be the best family to raise Harry Potter.”

“If you are going to allow Dumbledore to slander my family, you will allow us to respond,” Mr. Malfoy said.

The Minister nodded and Mrs. Malfoy started talking before her husband could. “The Malfoy family has no deeper ties to the Dark Arts than several of the families sitting here today! These ties Dumbledore is talking about are from long past, long before the twentieth century where there is no difference between the Dark Arts and other magic types. As for the slight Dumbledore is trying to make by allying my husband with You-Know-Who, let me remind you all that it was you who cleared my husband of all charges just two years ago when it was found that he was under the Imperius Curse—“

“A Curse that many Death Eaters who are in Azkaban lied about being under, Mrs. Malfoy,” Dumbledore said.

“A Curse that is no more illegal than tearing a child from his loving family, Mr. Dumbledore,” Mrs. Malfoy said.

Harry gave a gasp. “Mummy! I remembered something,” he said before anyone could stop him. “Mrs. Zabini said that I was never supposed to go to the Dursleys! That I’m supposed to go to my godfather!”

“You never were supposed to go to your muggle relatives?” The Minister asked. “Then why were you sent there instead of immediately to your godfather?”

“His godfather is Sirius Black,” Dumbledore said. “And he is currently in Azkaban serving a life sentence for murdering his friend Peter Pettigrew, as well as twelve muggles.”

“But Peter Pettigrew was never his friend, or was he my father’s friend either,” Harry said.

“If memory serves, Minister, Pettigrew died the day after the Potter’s murders,” Mr. Malfoy said. “If Harry was given to Mr. Black during that time, it is arguable that he would not have gone and attacked Pettigrew for fear of Harry’s safety.”

“That would never have happened,” Dumbledore said. “It was I who sent Harry to the Dursleys, Bagnold you will remember that, hopefully, and you will remember my reasoning for doing so. While in the Wizarding World Harry will be in constant threat of the remaining Death Eaters who still walk among us. We know that many have lied and tried to use the Imperious Curse to evade any consequences; using this knowledge is it unsafe for Harry to remain with the Malfoys.”

“Dumbledore, I have interrogated Lucius Malfoy myself,” a man said swiftly. “If he was a Death Eater I would have known!”

“We know of your reputation with sentencing Death Eaters, Barty, but you must understand that Dumbledore has a point—“

“You would put my hours of interrogations to waste simply because of Dumbledore’s well put fears?” Barty asked, looking at the man who questioned him. “Mr. Malfoy has shown all the known signs of being under the Imperious Curse and since then have been a generous member to our society giving generous donations to St. Mungo’s and other establishments. Why not ask Mr. Malfoy about him, if you will not believe me? Do you remember how many hours we have spent alone in that small room?”

“It almost reached two weeks, Crouch, you swore to be thorough with me,” Mr. Malfoy said.

“See? Two weeks of interrogation to prove this man’s innocence going against Dumbledore’s fears. This is maddening,” Barty Crouch muttered.

“Well… perhaps Dumbledore has a point to be worried,” Fudge said. “I mean, we all have been known to make mistakes Barty… not that you have with Mr. Malfoy, but still… perhaps it would be best, for the boy and all of us, if he uh stayed with a family who supported the Ministry during the war?”

“Mr. Fudge you are suggesting we put the boy up on auction, are you mad?” The Minister yelled. “This is a child we are talking about for heaven’s sake! A child who is legally a Malfoy—“

“And yet they’re refused to share the news that he was living with them!” Dumbledore said.

“To who? Who in this room has the right to know of Harry Malfoy’s whereabouts? I have been informed because I have a close professional relationship with both his fathers, but who else here can claim to be deserving of such news?” The Minister demanded.

“The public?” one suggested.

“The public? The public should know every detail about Harry’s life?” The Minister demanded.

“Well… we all would have known if uh he was in our community,” Fudge said.

“Let me repeat this for you all, because it seems to me that every single one of you is missing the point: Harry Malfoy is four-years-old. He is a little boy who can barely handle his magic. You heard him, he is only here because of accidental magic. He is not obligated to tell us of his everyday activities nor are we expecting him to,” The Minister said.

“Minister, if I could?” the same lady said.

“Yes Mrs. Bones, go ahead,” the Minister said.

The woman stood up and Harry noticed that she was a square-jawed witch and was wearing a monocle. “Mr. Malfoy has been cleared of all charges, and thus have no suspicion of being a Death Eater. Normally during these circumstances if he was to adopt a child, this wouldn’t be bothersome manner. He would have adopted the boy and life would go on. However, as you have stated numerous times, this is about Harry Potter-Malfoy. The boy who is responsible for You-Know-Who’s disappearance. While we have no legal right to know where he is residing, his residence is, no matter, a public issue because of what he has done while he was an infant. There are still those who greatly remember the losses they’ve suffered during the war. If it was learned that the boy who ended their suffering is living with a former Death Eater, even if he was cleared of all crimes, it would cause discomfort. Both for the public and the Ministry. While I am not completely agreeing with Dumbledore, this still should be put up to discussion: Is it right for Harry to live with an accused Death Eater?”

“Of course it is—“

“Of course it isn’t—“

Amelia Bones raised her hand for silence as the room became filled with thunderous voices yelling at each other. Harry squinted and covered his ears. The room took several minutes to become silent, and she continued. “What I mean is, should we take in Mr. Malfoy’s past while considering this issue?”

“This past is the issue, Amelia,” Dumbledore said. “To repeat what has already been stated, if Mr. Malfoy and his family supported the Ministry during the war, the entire war not just after, then there would be no problem.”

“But he was under the Imperious Curse, Dumbledore,” Bones said. “That is what makes this a tricky case.”

“If I can have a word,” Fudge said. “Perhaps… we could give the boy a sort of trial run? He will live with a family that we approve of for a short time, a month or so, and, if it is found that he is better there than the Malfoys we can begin the process of legally breaking the adoption.”

“This is absurd!” Mr. Malfoy yelled, standing up. “This is _my_ son you are talking about! I will not allow you to parade him like a heirloom to be passed from person to person!”

“I agree, that is ridiculously insane Fudge, never mention it again,” the Minister yelled.

“I move we put it to a vote!” Dumbledore stood.

“No.”

“I second it!” Fudge said.

“You shut up,” Minister Bagnold said, pointing a threatening finger at him.

“Then I second it,” another voice said.

Minister Bagnold turned to glare at the person and sighed. “Fine. Those who believe Harry should stay with the Malfoys, please raise your hand.” She raised her hand, along with Amelia Bones, Barty Crouch, and a few other of the fifty witches and wizards. They’ve placed their hands down and the Minister said, “Those who believe Harry should be given a month-long trial run with a family of our choosing, please raise your hand.” Dumbledore’s hand rose, along with Fudge and most of the fifty members of the Wizengamot.

Harry’s heart sank and looked at Mr. Malfoy, who had a look of unmeasurable fury. “This is a child they are talking about!” He snarled to his wife. “And they are treating him like an object!”

“Then it is decided,” The Minister said irritably, hitting a small gavel on the table. “Harry Potter will live with a family of our choosing for a month. To make this process easier on all of us, let us decide two families.”

“I suggest the Weasley family,” Dumbledore said. “They have always been loyal to our cause and to the Ministry. I can vouch for them as being hard-working; I currently have two of their children in Hogwarts as students. They also have other children around Harry’s age that he can get along with.”

“Fine,” The Minister sighed in a defeated voice. “The Weasleys. Who will the other family be?”

“I would like to offer my family,” Amelia Bones said. “The boy can come and live with me for a month. There might not be children his age but he will be continuing whatever education Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy is giving him. Also, of course Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy are allowed to visit every day.”

“Alright then,” The Minister nodded. She looked everywhere but the Malfoys. Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy were glaring at everyone with angry looks; Draco was shaking with rage as tears fell from his eyes and Harry’s head hung between his legs, which he curled to his chest. “Let us bring it to a vote. “Raise your hand for Harry _Malfoy_ to live with the Weasleys for a month.”

More than half of the members raised their hands including Fudge and Dumbledore.

“Live with Amelia Bones?” The Minister asked, raising her hand. Less than half of the members raised her hand. “The boy will live with the Weasleys,” The Minister said.

“Minister!” Mr. Malfoy threatened. “You will not carry out this sentence!”

“I’m afraid I must Lucius,” The Minister said. “This entire ordeal has been outrageous; do you think I am happy with this result?”

“Then you must then allow us to spend his first birthday with us,” Mrs. Malfoy said.

“No, I think it is wise that Harry move to the Weasleys immediately,” Dumbledore said.

“No, he will not!” The Minister said, fully exhausted. “Dumbledore, you will sit down immediately! The boy will move to the Weasleys on August 1st and return home to the Malfoys at the end of the month. That is it, I am close this case!” Minister Bagnold gripped the small gavel tightly and smashed it so hard on the table that it broke.

Harry finally broke down crying. Draco moved to hug him, and Harry latched onto him. Mr. Malfoy glared at Dumbledore as he walked out. “When all of this is done, I am beginning the papers to send them to Durmstrang, or Beauxbatons, or even ruddy Ilvermoney!” he said under his breath.

“Come on Lucius… let’s just go home,” Mrs. Malfoy said. She gave the Minister a cold, hard look before placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder. Harry untangled himself and grabbed Draco’s hand as they were escorted out of the courtroom, and ultimately out of the Ministry of Magic.

Harry just went to Draco’s bed and curled up again, crying to himself. He just got a family, he was enjoying his life, why did they to separate him from his family? Why do they have to separate him from Draco? He felt hands curl around him and Harry turned to bury his head into Draco’s chest, where he stayed for the rest of the day.

 

The manor seemed to have gotten sadder as Harry’s birthday drew near. Though both boys still played with Blaise when he came, Harry found that he couldn’t really smile. He spent every night with Draco in his bed, half-heartedly bathe himself, and barely ate any of his meals, only for Mrs. Malfoy to force him. July went by too quickly for the Malfoys and soon the house-elves were packing Harry’s belongings in a trunk. His birthday was a small celebration. They just had a dinner of Harry’s favorite foods and a large cake. It still made Harry cry though as through his tears he told Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy that it was the first birthday he celebrated. Among his gifts were new clothes, and a bigger stuffed basilisk toy that Draco picked out for Harry while he was playing with Blaise. Harry teared up and hugged his brother for the longest time before the two were sent to bed. They bathed and Draco made sure that Harry scrubbed and reached every part of Harry’s body. “I don’t care what they say,” Draco said. “You’re my brother and we’re going to be husbands. Nothing is going to change that.”

“Nothing,” Harry nodded, though he couldn’t match the determined expression Draco was wearing. They finished their bath in silence and dressed in the pajamas the house-elves set out for them. They went to Draco’s room and Harry hugged his new stuffed toy closely to his chest as he climbed into his side of Draco’s bed. Draco followed suit and the two stared at each other. Harry’s glasses pushed against his face as he laid on his side, but he didn’t want to take it off. If he took his glasses off then he would have to go to sleep. Draco reached and pulled Harry’s glasses off. “You’ll hurt your face,” he said.

Harry frowned. They continued staring at each other, and regrettably, fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok. Before any comments or thoughts develop, please not that this story has NO WEASLEY BASHING. Do with that as you will.


	8. Harry Meets the Weasleys

**The Eighth Chapter**

**Harry Meets the Weasleys**

Two stone-faced Aurors came the next day to bring Harry to the Weasleys. Harry stood straight; he was wearing a short-sleeve scarlet shirt and slacks and he was clutching his stuffed basilisk and a toy wand to his chest. Next to him was a small trunk with some of his clothes, enough for a month. “Come on kid,” one of the Aurors said.

Harry frowned. He didn’t even have breakfast yet. It was eight in the morning and he just woke up ten minutes ago. He looked at Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy and frowned. “Mummy… Daddy… why do I have to go?” he asked.

“Believe me Harry, we hate it as much as you do,” Mrs. Malfoy whispered kneeling before Harry to pull him into a hug. “This month will go by quick, you’ll see, and you’ll be back with us before you know it.”

“But I don’t want to leave,” Harry cried.

“We know Harry, but this is out of our hands,” Mr. Malfoy frowned, giving the Aurors a disapproving look. He placed his hand on Harry’s small shoulder and patted twice. “Don’t let them see you cry Harry,” he said. “You’re a Malfoy, as well as a Potter. Those are two great names you need to represent. Just be yourself and the month will go by quickly.”

“Yes Daddy,” Harry said. He turned to Draco, who wrapped his arms around Harry in a huge hug.

“You’re not allowed to go! You’re my brother and my husband and I say don’t go!” Draco whispered.

“I have to,” Harry frowned. “Daddy said… this is out of our hands.”

“I don’t care,” Draco said, holding Harry tighter than ever before. They both frowned and eventually Draco released Harry.

Harry turned to the Aurors and tightened his hold on his stuffed animal and toy wand. The Aurors flanked on either side of Harry and escorted him out of Malfoy Manor. There was a car waiting in the driveway and one of the Aurors held the door opened. Harry slid in and the Auror followed. Harry was squished by the other Auror on his other side and he sat there holding his toys. They both tried talking to him as the car rolled off of the pavement and onto the road but Harry refused to talk. He just stared in front of him as the car moved.

They were in the car for an hour. A long, boring, tedious hour during which Harry’s stomach growled fiercely. He was hungry, sad, and his butt started to feel numb for sitting too long. The car gave a small jump as they transitioned to a dirt road and the sound of the tires grinding against dirt filled Harry’s ears. He continued to just stare at the immediate front of him, his stomach growling. The car soon slowed to a stop. “We’re here,” one of the Aurors spoke for the first time. He opened the door and Harry squinted in the sunlight as he, for the first time, looked at where they were.

The house looked as thought it had once been a large stone pigpen, but extra rooms had been added here and there until it was several stories high and so crooked it looked as though it were held up by magic (which, Harry reminded himself, it probably was). Four or five chimneys were perched on top of the red roof. A lopsided sign stuck in the ground near the entrance red, THE BURROW. Around the front door lay a jumble of rubber boots and a very rusty cauldron. Several fat brown chickens were pecking their way around the yard.

As he slid off he could hear a female voice yelling. “Honestly of all the indecency in the world! Get away! Get away! He is just a child and he—DON’T YOU POINT THAT CAMERA AT ME!”

A short, plump, kind-faced woman that was now resembling a saber-toothed tiger was yelling at several people who had old-time cameras in their hands.

“He’s here!” one of the camera people said and Harry squinted as flashes of light hit his eyes, followed by more yelling. Harry hoped that she didn’t yell all the time.

“TURN THOSE RUDDY THINGS OFF YOU AWFUL PEOPLE! THE BOY IS ONLY FIVE YEARS OLD AND HERE YOU ARE TREATING HIM LIKE ONE OF MY CHICKENS!”

“Umm… I’m sorry Mrs. Weasley but, if you could only give one photo?” a familiar voice said from behind Harry. He turned to see Minister Bagnold walk up to him. “This is more for the Ministry than the Daily Prophet, but I’m sure they’ll use it.” Her voice indicated that she hated the situation as much as Harry did, coupled by the glare she threw at the reporters.

“The Minister of Magic,” Mrs. Weasley breathed in disbelief.

“I promise you, as soon as one, _and only one_ , picture is done, we will scream these reporters away,” Minister Bagnold chuckled.

Harry just held his toys closer to him. As far as he’s concern, this is all the Minister’s fault. That and he’s hungry. He looked up at Mrs. Weasley who finally saw him.

“Hello Harry dear,” she said sweetly, giving Harry a kind motherly smile that instantly relaxed him a little bit. “I’m sorry about the whole thing really, but I hope that you’ll at least enjoy your stay at my home.”

Harry’s stomach growled in response and Mrs. Weasley chuckled. “Right. Food. Get inside and I’ll whip you up something good. Did they not give you breakfast today?”

Harry frowned and looked at the Aurors. “They took me away before I could,” he said in a small voice.

“Oh,” Mrs. Weasley said, giving the stone-faced Aurors a disapproving look. “How bad of them. Well I’m sure my youngest son Ron is still eating, he’s your age you see, so you can sit with him while I get rid of these pesky reporters, okay?”

“Okay Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said hugging his toys close to him.

“Molly… the picture,” The Minister said.

“I will not allow this boy to get his photograph taken on an empty stomach, Minister,” Mrs. Weasley said.

“It will only take a second Mrs. Weasel,” a third female’s voice said. Harry watched as a woman who reminded him of Aunt Petunia in a red crocodile-skin dress walked up to them. “Hello, Harry. I’m Rita Skeeter, and I am the reporter for your special case,” she smiled, showing a few gold teeth. “The sooner you take the picture, Mrs. Weasel, the sooner Harry here can eat. It’s very simple.”

“Weasley Rita,” The Minister said. “And who told you to come here?”

“Myself,” Skeeter said. “It was me who broke the cap on this situations so I’ve appointed myself to follow it. So Harry, how do you feel knowing that you’re not longer with suspected Death Eaters?”

“No—no none of this, get out of my house!” Mrs. Weasley yelled, pointing her finger threateningly. Skeeter gave her a smile that was too big in Harry’s opinion.

“Minister, please,” Skeeter said.

The Minister sighed and looked at Mrs. Weasley. “I’m sorry Molly but this is the quicker way. If you could just get your whole family out here…”

“Fine,” Mrs. Weasley said, clearly against this very line of thinking. She looked at Harry and gave him a very sympathetic look. “I’m sorry Harry, but could you hold your hunger off for one minute? I promise after this I’ll make you triple helpings of whatever you want.”

“Okay.”

He walked towards Mrs. Weasley, holding his toys tightly to his chest as she led him towards the house. The reporters waited anxiously as Harry and the Minister waited outside and Mrs. Weasley went in for a second. “Arthur! Get the boys and Ginny out here for a second!” he heard Mrs. Weasley saying.

The front door opened again and Harry watched as a small army of redheads walked out. They were all taller than Harry, except for a small girl who was hugging onto Mrs. Weasley tightly. “We all here? Good. Percy, put your rat away this instance!” Mrs. Weasley said.

“Scabbers isn’t just a rat Mum,” one of the older looking redheads said. He looked to be around nine years old. The oldest looking boys seemed to be entering their teenage years, the oldest’s hair reaching the bottom of his ears. Harry stared at two redheads who looked exactly the same and was confused for a moment before remembering twins exist. The youngest boy, who looked to be Harry’s age like Mrs. Weasley said but taller, looked around grumpily, rubbing his belly in agitation.

“Right, we all here? Good,” The Minister sighed. “Let’s get this over with. Come on Harry.”

Harry followed the Minister somberly, shooting nasty looks at the reporters and Skeeter as he tried to hide his grumbling stomach.

“You hungry too?” the youngest asked.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “They took me before I could have breakfast!”

“Monsters!”

“Hush Ron,” Percy said, giving the youngest male Weasley a sharp look.

“Right everyone, smiles,” Skeeter said, beaming one herself. Again Harry thought that her smile was too big.

“Harry! Can you drop your toys—“

“No.”

The reporters looked at each other for an awkward moment as Harry hugged the toys tightly to his chest. The Weasley clan got close together to Harry, Ron standing next to him, Percy and the identical twins behind them; the older looking boys on the side, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley standing on one side and the Minister at the other. There was a flash as the Weasleys forced a smile and the photographers took their pictures. Harry stood awkwardly until the flashes stopped then he turned to Mrs. Weasley. “Can I please have food now?” he asked.

“Of course Harry,” Mrs. Weasley smiled. “Go inside with the others will you?”

Harry nodded and followed the clan of redheads into the house for the first time. They came into a small kitchen with a large wooden table that took up a majority of the room. He sat in a chair and finally placed his toys on his lap as the sound of Mrs. Weasley’s yelling filled the room. “THAT IS ENOUGH! YOU ALREADY TORTURED THE POOR CHILD BY TAKING A PHOTO OF HIM YOU WILL NOT GET ANYMORE! GET OFF OF MY HOUSE THIS INSTANT!”

“Ahh, it’s so nice to hear Mum yell at someone else, isn’t it Fred?” one of the twins said.

“It is George,” Fred nodded. “Anyway, I think we should introduce ourselves,” he smiled at Harry. “I’m Fred and this is my twin George.”

“I’m… Harry,” Harry said. “Harry Malfoy.”

“Nice to meet’cha!” the twins grinned.

Harry nodded and said nothing. The door opened and Mrs. Weasley walked in looking in a huff followed by Mr. Weasley.

“Right, sorry about all that boys,” Mr. Weasley sighed. “Wish I could stay and talk with you for a bit Harry, but I really must get to work, we’ll talk when I come home. Good bye boys, good bye Molly.” He kissed Mrs. Weasley’s cheek and walked out of the house.

Mrs. Weasley turned to Harry and said, “Well let’s get some food into you. We have eggs and sausages already ready if you want some, or if you want something else, I can whip it up.”

“That’s fine,” Harry said, looking down at his toys. He already missed his brother. Mrs. Weasley nodded and turned to cook Harry his breakfast. Harry looked around the room. It was crowded, like small and roomy, the complete opposite of his home at Malfoy Manor. It was weird. He looked around the table. The rat that was on Percy’s shoulder already scuttled away and the nine year old was reading a book as the two older brothers were bent over what looked like homework. Ron was eating.

“So Harry, what’s it like living with those dull Malfoys?” Fred smirked.

“Dull?” Harry asked, not knowing the word.

“Yeah like boring, or stiff or just plan ehh,” George nodded.

“Mummy and Daddy aren’t like that,” Harry frowned. “And Draco isn’t boring!”

The twins looked at each other, clearly not believing Harry. They both shrugged and George said, “Whatever you want.”

“What’s that?” Ron asked, his face full of food as he pointed at Harry’s toy wand.

“It’s my toy,” Harry said softly picking up his toy wand.

“Woah! It’s like a real wand,” the twins said. “Mum wouldn’t let us have one of these! What does it do?”

“Shoots sparks…” Harry said.

“Wicked!” The twins said in unison again.

“Harry,” Mrs. Weasley said from the stove. “You are not to play with your toy wand in this house. Outside, that’s okay, but as long as you are in here, you are not to touch that wand, understand?”

“Okay,” Harry frowned.

Mrs. Weasley quickly cooked up breakfast for Harry and placed a plate in front of him. Harry looked up and mumbled a thank you before taking a bite. It was good. Really good. Just as good as the food the house-elves make good!

“How is it?” Mrs. Weasley asked.

“Really good… thank you,” Harry said.

Mrs. Weasley smiled. “Well while you’re eating, let me just tell you some things,” she said. “You’ll be sleeping in Ron’s room, it’ll be a bit tight but there’s plenty of room for you both. We’re not as… privileged as the Malfoys, but we have enough. That said you’re going to be expected to help out with some chores. It’s simple stuff really, like helping the twins feed the chickens or helping all of us do the dishes.”

“Chores?” Harry squeaked out, his mind going back to the Dursleys and the vacuum two times his size.

“Yes, but don’t worry, it’s simple stuff,” Mrs. Weasley said. Harry just nodded but hugged his toy closer.

Harry ate his breakfast, and as Mrs. Weasley promised she gave him triple helpings of everything. When he finally placed his fork down he felt stuff, his stomach bulged a little and he had a little tummy ache from eating too much. Mrs. Weasley stood up and said, “Ron, why don’t you show Harry your room so he can put his stuff away?”

“Okay,” Ron said getting off of his chair.

Harry slid off of his and looked around for his small trunk. At some point it was brought inside and was waiting by the door. He moved to get it. “No, no don’t worry about that dear, I’ll have Bill and Charlie bring it up,” Mrs. Weasley smiled as she took the empty plates off of the table.

“Thank you,” Harry said politely. He turned to follow Ron out of the kitchen and towards a spiraling wooden staircase with many landings. “How big is this house?” Harry asked hugging his toys close to him.

“Very big!” Ron said. “We’re on the top floor.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded craning his head to try and look up all the stairs. “Is your room big?”

“No not really,” Ron frowned. “You’ll probably hate it… it’s not like the Malfoy’s.”

“I don’t care, everywhere is bigger than my first room,” Harry said, feeling oddly at ease with Ron.

“Really?” Ron asked.

“Uh-huh,” Harry nodded.

“What was it?” Ron asked curiously.

“A cupboard… under the stairs,” Harry said.

“What!? No!” Ron said, disbelieiving him.

Harry nodded. “It’s true! It’s true! I lived with my muggle Aunt and Uncle and they made me sleep in the cupboard! And my cousin had two bedrooms!”

“What?” Ron said, sounding completely angry. “That’s awful!”

“It is,” Harry nodded frowning slightly. He hugged his toys and said, “But my room now is good! It’s like almost twice the size of Dudley’s room.”

“Oh…” Ron said slightly sadly. “My… my room’s over here,” he pointed to a room. Harry turned to look at Ron as the tall redhead pointed bashfully at a closed door. He opened the door and walked through, followed by Harry.

The room was smaller than Harry’s room in Malfoy Manor, but it was still immensely bigger than his room at Privet Drive. The walls were orange, very orange. Ron covered almost every inch of the shabby wallpaper with posters of the same seven witches and wizards, all wearing bright orange robes, carrying broomsticks, and waving energetically.

“Your Quidditch team?” Harry asked.

“The Chudley Cannons,” Ron said, pointing at the orange bedspread, which was emblazoned with two giant black C’s and a speeding cannonball. “Ninth in the league.”

Harry just nodded. He knew nothing of Quidditch other than it exists and Blaise really likes it. “Do you have a favorite team, Harry?” Ron asked.

“No but Blaise likes this one team,” Harry said. “Umm… I forgot their name… it has Harpy in them.”

“The Holyhead Harpies?” Ron asked.

“Yeah! That’s the one!” Harry jumped.

“They’re good, I guess… but the Chudley Cannons are better!” Ron said.

Harry just shrugged. “I just like to fly around with my toy broom.”

“You have a toy broom?” Ron asked.

“Uh-huh,” Harry nodded. “But I didn’t bring it,” he frowned.

“Right… well you can use one of our brooms,” Ron said. Harry looked up and gave a small smile. “Umm Harry… what are you holding?” Ron asked, eyeing the stuffed animal with some discomfort.

“Oh this,” Harry said. “It’s my favorite animal and stuffed animal.” He placed his toy wand on one of the two beds and held up the toy. “It’s a Basilisk!” he said proudly. “One of the first words I’ve learned how to spell.”

“O-ohh… umm okay,” Ron said, clearly not comfortable staring at the toy snake.

“What’s the matter?” Harry asked.

“It’s just that uhhh… snakes are icky,” Ron said with a look of extreme disgust. “Fred and George once told me that snakes’ll bite my feet if I keep them out at night!”

“This one won’t, look,” Harry said. He threw his toy up in the air and let it land on the floor. He picked it up, squeezed it tightly, and threw it on the bed. “Won’t move!”

“Okay… I guess,” Ron said, though he was still eyeing the toy suspiciously. Harry frowned and turned to his toy. “I guess… I guess it can stay under my covers.” He looked at the bed without the Chudley Cannons covers and pulled the comforter off, placed the toy basilisk on the bed, and covered it leaving only a slight bulge that hinted at its existence. “There! Now it’ll just stay at my bed,” Harry said.

Ron gave small smile and giggled.

“So… what do we do now?” Harry asked looking around apprehensively.

“Well… ehh… I don’t know,” Ron shrugged. “Usually we just play around until Mum needs us to do chores.”

“Right… chores,” Harry frowned. “Don’t you guys have like house-elves for that?”

“Do we look rich to you?”

“Sorry! It’s just that… umm… Mummy and Daddy have house-elves and uhh…”

“Oh, right,” Ron said a bit offhandedly. “You’re not a snob are you?”

“A snob? What’s that?” Harry asked.

“A person who thinks he’s better than everyone else because he has money,” Ron said. “You’re not one of those are you?”

“Uhh… no? I don’t think so,” Harry frowned. “Did I sound like one?”

“Yes. Just now,” Ron said. “When you mentioned house-elves.”

“Oh sorry,” Harry frowned, taking a step back from Ron. “I’m not used to having one… sorry.”

Ron just looked at Harry for a moment before shrugging. The door opened and two teenage redheads came in, carrying Harry’s trunk. “Hello Harry,” the older looking one said. “I’m Bill, this is Charlie.”

“Hi.”

“Where do you want this?” Charlie asked, lifting his arms to emphasis the trunk.

“Uhh… anywhere?”

“Okay,” both boys shrugged before dropping the trunk right next to Harry’s bed. “Mum wants you both to come down Ron,” Bill said. “She wants you to help de-gnome the garden.”

“Do I have to?” Ron whined.

“Yes, now come on,” Bill said. “You too Harry, this’ll be fun, you’ll see.”

Harry just gave a small nod and follow the two out of the room, Ron bringing up the rear. They walked down the long staircases, back into the kitchen, and out into the garden outside. It was a large garden. There were plenty of weeds, and the grass needed cutting, but there were gnarled trees all around the walls, plants Harry had never seen spilling from every flower bed, and a big green pond full of frogs. It was the complete opposite of Mrs. Malfoy’s gardens where, while there were exotic flowers and plants, everything was neatly organized with nary a grass on the pathway. This reminded Harry of a very small jungle that took over the garden wall. And he liked it. Really liked it.

“What’s a gnome?” Harry asked looking around.

“That is a gnome,” Ron said grimly when a violent, scuffling noise came up and the peony bush shuddered.

“Gerroff me! Gerroff me!” the gnome squealed.

It was small and leathery looking, with a large, knobby, bald head exactly like a potato. Charlie held it at arm’s length as it kicked and turned it upside down. “This is what you gotta do, Harry,” Charlie said. He raised the gnome above his head and started to swing it in great circles like a lasso. Seeing the shocked, but amused, face on Harry’s face, Charlie added, “It doesn’t hurt them—you’ve just got to make them really dizzy so they can’t find their way back to the gnomeholes.”

He let go of the gnome’s ankles: It flew twenty feet into the air and landed with a thud in the field over the hedge.

“That was awful Charlie,” Bill chuckled. “Fred could get it past the stump.”

Harry learned quickly not to feel sorry for the gnomes. He decided to drop the first one he caught over the hedge, but the gnome, sensing weakness, sank its razor-sharp teeth into Harry’s finger and he had a hard job shaking it off—until—

“Wow, Harry—that must’ve been thirty feet. …”

The air was soon thick with flying gnomes. Harry found himself having fun throwing the gnomes with Charlie, Bill, and Ron.

“They’re idiots,” Bill said. “The moment they know the de-gnoming’s going on they all storm up to have a look.”

“You’d d think they’ve learn by now—Nice! You got the tree Ron!” Charlie cheered. Ron smiled at the small cheer and scrambled to grab another one.

Soon, the crowd of gnomes in the field started walking away in a straggling line, their little shoulders hunched.

“They’ll be back,” Charlie said as they watched the gnomes disappear into the hedge on the other side of the field. “They love it here; Dad’s too soft on them.”

“Anyway Harry, do you know how to fly a broom?” Bill asked.

“Yeah!” Harry smiled. “Though my brother and I only fly our toy brooms—they won’t let us go above five feet.”

“Well,” Bill smirked at Charlie who shared a similar look. “Want to fly a real broom—“

“Yes.” Harry said with a childish determination in his eyes, both fists clenched and close to his body.

“Brilliant! Let’s go!” Charlie said. The twelve-year-old led the way as he stretched. The beginnings of muscular arms showing. “I just joined the Quidditch team for Gryffindor this year,” he said looking at Harry. “Seeker.”

Harry nodded and said, “You’re in Hogwarts?”

“Yup, just finished my second year,” Charlie said. “Bill’s one year ahead of me.”

“Going into my fourth,” Bill said. “And no, I’m not in the Quidditch team. Not really that good, but I can tell you about some of the subjects if you want.”

“Boring!” Ron said aloud. “I’m sure Harry just wants to fly, right?”

“Yeah! But you can tell me about Hogwarts later,” Harry said. “Right now Daddy’s not very happy with it.”

“How could he?” Bill asked.

Harry frowned and looked around nervously. Bill and Charlie shared a confused look. “Anyway… the broom closet’s here,” Charlie said.

Charlie and Bill led Harry to a stone outhouse that has been converted to a broomshed. All of the brooms in the shed were older models, but Harry didn’t care. All he cared about was that they were real brooms and he was going to fly them!

“All are Cleansweep Fives,” Bill said pulling two of them out. “There was a massive sale and Mum and Dad got them. Harry, you’ll be flying with me, alright? We’ll see how high we can take these.” He grinned at Harry, who nodded enthusiastically. It was unbelievable that his morning started so somberly and now he’s about to ride a real broomstick!

He and Bill got on one broomstick while Ron and Charlie got on the other. Harry was sitting directly in front of Bill, his back barely touching Bill’s stomach as the teen’s arms kept him center. Harry’s hands wrapped around the broomstick handle as best he could, his fingers barely touching each other as he gripped the thick broomstick. “You ready?” Bill asked.

Harry looked over his shoulder and nodded. Bill kicked off. Harry leaned forward as they raised higher and higher into the air. They easily past the five foot maximum of Harry’s toy broom and continued to climb until they were level with the third floor of the Burrow. “Woah!” Harry cried out, holding tightly to the thick broom.

“You like it?” Bill asked.

“Yeah!” Harry smiled.

“Good, let’s see how good you are at steering,” Bill said. Harry nodded and leaned forward, getting a feel for the broom. It moved under his command, going slowly forward. He leaned left and it started to turn; leaned right and it started to go the other way. Harry leaned close to the broom, Bill leaning as well as his stomach was pressing on Harry’s back, and the broom started flying, going in a straight line until Harry pushed the broom handle down. They started for a dive and Harry started to grin as they pointed towards the ground. Harry pulled and they came from the dive with some grace, climbing higher and higher until they reached the Burrow’s roof. Harry looked around and saw Charlie and Ron flying below them; Charlie was doing loops while Ron held on tightly.

Harry flew the broom around the Burrow, doing spirals around the house. Bill told Harry to hold on and took control of the broom, starting a chase with Charlie and Ron. Harry laughed and whooped as they flew around, all his sadness and worries from this morning gone in an instant. They’ve spent the rest of the morning and all afternoon in the air. Bill and Charlie switched brooms and Harry had fun with Charlie as they did Seeker techniques, Charlie doing some impressive dives for a twelve year old. They came in for lunch, and later dinner. The food was really good, something that Harry told Mrs. Weasley constantly.

Harry yawned after dinner and Mrs. Weasley brought him to where the bathroom was. It was a standard size bathroom, it was far from huge like at Malfoy Manor, but it worked. For the first time in almost a year Harry didn’t have a bubble bath. He sat in the bathtub, Mrs. Weasley was outside in case Harry needed help, He didn’t as he cleaned himself, reaching every inch and curve of his body, before rinsing.

“Harry, I took out a pair of pajamas from your trunk,” Mrs. Weasley said. “If you could just put your day clothes in the hamper and wrap a towel around you, I’ll just drop it inside, okay?”

“Thank you Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said. He climbed out of the tub carefully and took a fluffy white towel. He wrapped it around his entire body and said, “I have the towel on!”

The bathroom door opened and Mrs. Weasley walked in and placed Harry’s pajamas on the closed toilet. She closed the door behind her and Harry rubbed the towel enthusiastically on his body. When he was dry, he dropped the towel and picked it up along with his day clothes. He placed them in an open hamper then dressed in his pajamas. “I’m dressed, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said.

“Alright,” Mrs. Weasley said opening the bathroom door. “Do you remember where Ron’s room is?”

“All the way at the top?” Harry asked.

“That’s right, come on,” Mrs. Weasley nodded. The moon begun to rise as Harry and Mrs. Weasley climbed the stairs together. Ron was already in his bed and sleeping heavily as the two entered. “Right, straight into bed young man,” Mrs. Weasley said.

Harry nodded and climbed into his new bed for the month. It was… nice, not as soft and warm as his bed in Malfoy Manor but it was loads better than the mattress he had at the Dursley’s. He pulled his toy near him but kept it under the covers until Mrs. Weasley left, but not before bidding Harry a goodnight. Harry took off his glasses and hugged his toy close to him. The stuffed animal sprung to life and wrapped around Harry as if giving him a tight hug. Harry closed his eyes and silently began to cry. He missed Draco. He missed Blaise. He missed Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. He missed the familiar smell of the Manor. He missed Draco’s toys and how the two of them would play the day away. He missed his life with Draco and Blaise. The Weasleys are fun, but he missed his family. Tears leaked from Harry’s eyes and the young boy cried himself to sleep.


	9. Harry Goes Home

**The Ninth Chapter**

**Harry Goes Home**

Mrs. Weasley noticed that Harry seemed downtrodden by the end of the first week. He had fun with Ron, the two of them becoming fast friends, but Mrs. Weasley always noticed that the boy would frown whenever he thought nobody was looking. After lunch on Harry’s first Sunday with the Weasleys, Mrs. Weasley held him back. “Harry, can I talk with you?” she asked.

“Yeah?” Harry said looking at her from the kitchen table. Mrs. Weasley waited until everyone left before she asked, “Do you know how to write?”

“Huh?”

“I’ve seen you looking sad plenty of times here,” Mrs. Weasley said. “Not that I don’t blame you, I mean we are a rather large family and you didn’t exactly voluntarily came here… Anyway, I am just wondering if you want to write a letter… to your family.”

“I can do that?” Harry asked, looking confused than hopeful.

“Of course, yeah,” Mrs. Weasley nodded. She turned around and rummaged in a drawer. “Let’s see here… here’s some parchment… and here’s a quill.” She pulled out an old looking tarnished quill and battered bottle of ink. She placed them in front of Harry along with a piece of parchment. “You do know how to write, right?” she asked.

“Yeah, I do,” Harry nodded.

“Alright then,” Mrs. Weasley smiled as she sat down across of Harry. “You write your letter and I’ll send it with an owl.”

Harry smiled and nodded enthusiastically. He looked at the piece of parchment and held the quill awkwardly, dumping it in the ink and began writing in big sloppy letters.

_Dear Daddy, Mummy, and Draco,_

_I miss you! The Weasleys are nice but I miss you! There’s a lot of Weasleys here. There’s Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, their oldest Bill who’s thirteen, Charlie who’s twelve and got these BIG arms, Fred and George who are twins and six years old, Ron who’s my age! And there’s Ginny, but I don’t talk a lot to Ginny because she’s always helping Mrs. Weasley or I’m busy playing with Ron while she’s doing something else._

_Anyway I miss you and I’m doing well. Mrs. Weasley gives me triple helpings of everything and the Weasley boys are fun to play with._

_But I still miss you guys! I can’t wait till the month is gone and I can come home again. I’m still sad at the Ministry and Dumbledoor, I mean why did they have to force me here? I’m glad that I met Ron and the others but still I miss you guys! I hope I get to see you all again soon!_

_Love_

_Harry_

_P.S. Draco! Please don’t be jealous that I’m friends with Ron! You’re still my brother!_

“I’m done,” Harry smiled.

“Alright dear, can I check your spelling?” Mrs. Weasley asked.

“Okay,” Harry nodded. He slid his letter to Mrs. Weasley who looked over his writing.

“You have very good spelling Harry,” Mrs. Weasley said, giving Harry a smile. “Very good, even better than the twins when they were your age. …Ah, here we are,” she chuckled as she pointed her wand at a word. “You misspelled Dumbledore’s name. It’s D-U-M-B-L-E-D-O-R-E not D-U-M-B-L-E-D-O-O-R. It’s not a word that is spelled like it sounds, but aside from that it’s almost perfect.”

“Thank you Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said as Mrs. Weasley fixed his mistake. Mrs. Weasley tapped the paper again and the ink dried out. Harry folded the letter in thirds and gave it to Mrs. Weasley.

“I’ll fetch Errol and have him deliver it then,” she said sealing the letter and writing down the address. “It is Wiltshire, correct Harry?”

“Yes,” Harry nodded. “Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire.” Mrs. Weasley finished writing down the address and looked up at Harry. “There, all done. Now if you’ll be a dear and help Ron and Charlie with the chickens, then you can go play.”

“Okay Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said, feeling much better now that he’s written a letter to his family. He hoped that he’ll get a reply very soon, maybe even before bath time.

Harry slipped off his chair and went outside. He walked around the side of the Burrow to see Ron and Charlie already at the chicken coop. For some reason Charlie had his shirt off, showing off his big arms and chest. Harry stared at him for a bit, he never saw a chest or arms like that. He pointed to it and asked, “What is that?”

“This? It’s the beginning of muscles,” Charlie smirked. “They’re going to be great for when I get older.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to study dragons,” Charlie said smiling. “When I graduate Hogwarts, that’s what I’m going to do. I already signed up for Care of Magical Creatures for next year.”

“And you need big arms for dragons?” Harry asked.

Charlie shrugged. “They help I guess, a friend told me that the dragon handlers have to pull heavy chains sometimes. And they’re always at a risk of burning.”

“Oooo,” Harry said, impressed.

“Anyway Harry, what can we help you with?” Charlie asked.

“Mrs. Weasley told me to come out here and help you before I can play,” Harry said.

“Alright, in that case can you hand me that bucket over there? It’s the chicken feed,” Charlie said. “Ron’ll get all the eggs out of the coop, but we need the chickens out for that to happen.” Charlie pointed to two buckets, one of them was filled with bird seed while the other was empty.

Harry nodded and walked to the filled bucket. It was slightly heavy but he managed to lift it up with both hands and carry it over to Charlie. Charlie picked it up with ease and tipped it over the low chain-linked fence onto the ground and into a wooden feeding station. He kept the bucket tilted until the station was full and then setting the bucket at his feet before opening the chicken coop’s door. The chickens all burst out running for the feed. Charlie opened a hatch on top and gave the empty bucket to Ron. The tall five-year-old reached in and started pulling out eggs. Harry watched slightly amazed as Ron slowly filled the bucket with more and more eggs.

“These eggs’ll last us a few days before they lay some more,” Charlie said. “We always have more than enough eggs here. That should be all of them Ron,” he added as Ron reached as deep as he could into the chicken’s home. “I’ll bring these to Mum, you two can play alright?”

“Okay!” both boys grinned. Harry turned to Ron and pulled out his toy wand that he hid in his pants. They shared a mischievous grin and Harry gave Ron the wand. Ron aimed the wand above the chicken coop and shot off a spark of red light that scared the chickens into a frenzy. The two boys laughed as the chickens ran around in their pen, knocking into each other and smashing into the fence as they panicked. “Again, again!” Harry laughed. Ron shot off another spark and the chickens ran faster, some of them running into the coop.

“Let’s try the gnomes!” Ron grinned. Harry nodded and they ran towards the bushes where the gnomes tend to frequent. “There’s one!” Ron pointed out as he gave Harry his toy wand.

Harry aimed the wand at the gnome’s potato-like head and shot off a light-green spark that exploded with the sound of a snapping finger. The gnome fell clumsily before running off in the opposite direction, running completely into a wall. The two boys laughed at the sight of the funny gnomes running. Harry was very glad to reach Ron how to shoot sparks from the wand. They spent the next ten minutes shooting sparks into the air of various colors, Ron even got an emerald shot off that bounced off a tree and hit Harry right in the butt, causing the small boy to jump in surprise. “My butt!” he cried out, rubbing it.

“Sorry!” Ron said, but still smirking mirthfully. “Want me to kiss it and make it feel better?” he sniggered.

“Later!” Harry declared. “First I want to show you something.” He took the toy wand from Ron and looked at it for a moment. “I uhh hold it like this… and wave it like this… Wow!” Instead of sparks, a big shining yellow star came out of the toy wand that shot straight into the air and illuminated for a moment before fading away.

“Cool! I wanna try!” Ron said grabbing for the wand. Harry gave it to him. “You gotta hold it like this,” he said moving his hands around Ron’s, fixing the grip. “And then wave it like a big ‘U,’” Harry said, his hand over Ron’s as they moved the toy wand together. At the tip of the U shape, a star came out and shot into the air.

“That’s a neat trick,” Charlie’s voice said. The two little boys turned around and saw the redhead smiling at them, now wearing a T-shirt. Harry gave him a questioning look and the third-year shrugged. “I hate getting chicken feathers and cr—stuff on my shirt. Anyway, what was that?”

“Harry’s showing me something new his toy wand can do!” Ron said excitedly. “Watch!” He did the motion again and another star shot out.

“That’s impressive Ron, Harry,” Charlie said. “What else can your toy wand do Harry?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said. “I… I didn’t bring instructions… I just try out different things.” Harry blushed a bit under Charlie’s gaze. The older Weasley smiled and said, “That’s actually pretty smart of you Harry.”

“Thanks…”

“Anyway, Mum told me that I have to do my summer assignments now,” Charlie looked extremely disappointed, as if he didn’t want to even think about doing homework. “So Bill and I can’t play with you guys. But I think Fred and George are done with their chores. Why don’t you two send sparks up their butts?”

“Alright!” Both Harry and Ron said in unison. They ran off into the house and found the twins in their room. Harry took the wand and sent sparks right at the twins. The sparks hit George’s pants and the twin jumped in the air. “What!”

He turned to see Harry and Ron laughing in the doorway. “Think that’s funny?” George said. The two boys laughed as they ran away, the twins chasing after them. The twins caught up quickly and they both tackled Harry and Ron to the ground, tickle-torturing them until they had Harry’s wand. The four decided to play the rest of the afternoon while everyone else were inside doing homework or other stuff. Harry and Ron chased Fred and George for the wand, tickling them the way the twins tickled them while Fred and George passed the wand between them and shot sparks at the two young boys. Ginny came running out an hour in and joined Ron and Harry in chasing Fred and George around.

Harry had fun but sometimes while he was running around he had moments of incredible loneliness where he missed Draco and Blaise. By the time he and Ron went to bed Ron stopped him and frowned. “What’s the matter Harry? Don’t you like it here… don’t you like me?”

“I like you Ron, and I like Fred and George and the rest of your family, but I miss my own family,” Harry said sadly. “I miss my brother, my Mummy, my Daddy… I miss Blaise and Mrs. Zabini… I just feel sad missing them.”

“I’m sorry,” Ron said.

“It’s not your fault,” Harry said shaking his head. He sighed and looked at the window. “Sometimes when I’m sad, I sleep in Draco’s bed. It makes me feel better.”

“Well… um I’m not Malfoy but you can sleep in my bed… if it helps,” Ron said. Harry looked up at him sadly and nodded. Ron opened his covers and moved to the edge. Harry slipped off of his bed and climbed into Ron’s it was a snug fit, the bed was half the size of Draco’s huge bed back home, but Harry didn’t care. Sleeping in the same bed with someone helped Harry a bit. He felt slightly less anxious and sad than before. He turned on his side to look at Ron, who was on his side as well.

They shared a look, looking at the space between them and Ron bit his lip. “I umm move in the bed… at least that’s what George told me when I had to sleep in their room when my room got infested with doxies one time.”

“Don’t worry, Draco moved too,” Harry said. “One time I woke up to him holding me like I was a stuffed animal!”

Ron giggled and said, “I won’t do that… I think.”

Harry smiled softly and took off his glasses. “Umm g’night Ron,” he said.

“Night Harry,” Ron said both boys closing their eyes and quickly falling asleep.

The next day Harry got his reply from the Malfoys. It was written in Mr. Malfoy’s professional hand.

_Harry,_

_While it breaks our hearts that you miss us, and please know that we miss you incredibly as well, you are representing the Malfoy family during your “visitation” to the Weasleys, and as such in your letters do not use the phrase “I miss you” more than two times. Also, we have no need of the Weasley family’s ages. Inform us on what you are doing; how are your day-to-day activities. Are the Weasleys treating you correctly? Are they being fair? Abusive? Do they remind you of those horrible muggles? Are they trying to force their views onto you? Make you forget that we exist? These are the important information Harry, not the children’s ages._

_That said, just repeat to yourself that there is only about three weeks left and you will be in the lap of luxury where you belong. Not the backwater wash that is the Weasleys. Draco wishes me to remind you that he is your best friend and brother, and you should know that his studies are going well. When you come home you will have to catch up to him quickly._

_One last thing. I have lost count of how many times I told you this, but in public you call me “father” not “daddy.”_

_Love,_

_Your Father, Lucius Malfoy._

Underneath Mr. Malfoy’s writing was Mrs. Malfoy’s.

_P.S. Harry, I am very happy that you are making the best of the situation. Please ignore your daddy and continue making friends with whoever you want. Draco and Blaise are currently looking for a welcome home present for you, they want to think of something themselves, but Delilah and I think it’s best to have your opinion. If there is something that you would love to have, owl me directly._

_Love,_

_Mummy_

Harry smiled at he read the letter. He folded it and decided to write down a reply as soon as breakfast was over, he knew exactly what he wanted. Harry continued to send letters to the Malfoys, and even convinced Ron to send one to Draco directly after Draco sent a letter asking (demanding) to have Ron tell him that he’s not trying to replace Draco as Harry’s best friend and brother. Harry spent his days doing chores around the house with the other Weasleys before playing with them, each day a new game that Ron and Harry made up.

It was the middle of Harry’s last week with the Weasleys. They just had lunch and Harry was in Ron’s room with Ron. Ron looked a little embarrassed, he asked Harry to come into their room. “Umm so last night I wanted to go to the bathroom… and Bill were taking his shower. He was getting out and… I saw his… you know… thing.”

“Things?” Harry asked innocently, cocking his head to the right.

“Yeah his… umm… pee-pee?” Ron said.

“Ohh…” Harry said. “And?”

“That… got me thinking you know, his looked… umm different from mine,” Ron said.

“They can do that?” Harry gasped.

“I don’t know… maybe?” Ron said. “That’s what I wanted to ask… can we umm… can we check? Just to make sure?”

“Check?” Harry asked. Ron nodded, his cheeks red. “Yeah! Check to see that… we’re right… or look right.”

Harry thought for a moment then nodded. “Okay… I don’t know they could be different, I thought they all looked the same,” he said.

“Well, Bill’s was bigger than mine! And it was like sticking out!”

“Stick out?”

“Yeah! Like a straight line!”

“They can do that!?” Harry gasped.

“Let’s see,” Ron said. They both took off their clothes and looked at each other. Ron’s skin was pale with freckles all over the place while Harry had smooth, tanned skin. They looked down at their naughty bits and gasped. Harry pointed at Ron’s and said, “Why is yours bigger than mine?”

“Why don’t you have freckles? And where’s the hair?” Ron asked looking between the both of theirs. “Bill had like some hair around his pee-pee.”

“Hair? There?” Harry said, looking grossed out. He looked between their bodies and stared at Ron’s naughty bit. “Ron,” he said slightly frightened. “Where’s the pink part?”

“The pink part?” Ron asked.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. He held himself with one hand and pointed to the head with the other. “This part! Yours is just like pale skin!”

“Ohh… it’s there,” Ron said. He pulled the skin down revealing the pink head underneath. Harry stared amazed. “Wow! Yours can do that?”

“Yeah, that’s how I pee,” Ron nodded. “I gotta pull the skin down and then I can aim.”

“Cool,” Harry said. He knelt down and stared at Ron’s naughty bit. Ron blushed and looked away. “Can I try? Do you just push and pull?”

“Yeah… I guess,” Ron said. Harry gave it an experimental poke. He wrapped his fingers around it and squeezed.

“OW!”

“Sorry!” Harry said. He loosened his grip lightly and moved his hand slowly. The skin moved with his hand, showing the pink part before hiding it. He kept moving his hand, revealing the hiding the pink part multiple times. He felt a heat in his hands gasped. “It moved!”

“It did!” Ron gasped. “Try it again!”

Harry continued to move his hand and he found that Ron’s pee-pee moved again! Harry continued to move the skin and he gasped as Ron’s pee-pee jumped in his hand. “It’s looking like Bill’s now!” Ron said.

“Oh my god!”

“It’s bigger now!” Ron gasped.

“Do they all do that?” Harry asked.

“I don’t know!” Ron said. They looked at Harry’s naughty bit. It was still small. “Can we do the same thing with yours?” Ron asked.

“I think so,” Harry said. “Do you want to try?”

“Umm okay,” Ron said. He did the same thing to Harry’s naughty bit and both of them gave screams of shock as Harry’s pee-pee grew in Ron’s hand. “It grew!” Harry said.

“Like mine!”

Harry looked between the two and pouted. “It’s still smaller than yours though.”

“So what does that mean?” Ron asked. “That you have less to aim with when you’re using the bathroom?”

“I sit down so I don’t know,” Harry said. He looked at the rest of Ron’s body. “Why are your chest… umm I think they’re call nipples, right? Why are they a different color than Charlie’s?”

He pointed to Ron’s chest where two small pink nipples rested. Ron looked at them, slightly scared. “Is that bad?”

“I don’t know… I don’t think so cause look, we’re different too,” Harry said pointing to his nipples, which were slightly bigger than Ron’s and a darker pink. Ron reached and touched Harry’s nipples experimentally, causing a weird shutter in the boy. Harry did the same and Ron shuttered as well. They touched and examined each other’s body.

Harry poked at a freckle on Ron’s stomach and asked, “Do you feel them?”

“Feel what?”

“Your freckles,” Harry said. “Do they like feel different?”

“No… they don’t,” Ron said. “I don’t feel them or feel you touching them. It’s like just skin.”

“Ohh… okay,” Harry nodded. They looked around their body some more and Ron did his best to look at his backside.

“Harry… do you have a bigger butt?” he asked.

“What?”

“I think you have a bigger butt,” Ron said looking at his own.

“I do?” Harry asked looking at his own butt. They moved to a mirror and looked over their shoulders standing sideways. “I do!” Harry gasped.

“Wonder how,” Ron said.

“Look! Our things gone down again!” Harry said pointing to the mirror. Ron looked and gasped to see that their pee-pees shrank down again. “They can grow and shrink by themselves,” Harry said.

“Looks like it,” Ron nodded.

They stared at the mirror for a moment. Harry examined his own body. He never realized how big his butt was, it was like two little white hills that curved from the bottom of his back to his legs. Ron’s butt curved a little but was smaller than Harry’s. He noticed how much taller Ron was than Harry, and even though their pee-pees were small now, Ron was still bigger than Harry again.

Harry’s eyes roamed Ron’s body finding that, despite their pee-pee sizes, freckles, and butt sizes their bodies were more or less the same. “I should tell Draco about this… in person,” Harry said as he slipped on his underwear. “We take baths together but I never really looked at his body, you know. I wonder if he’s like you or me with our pee-pees.”

“You have to tell me,” Ron said excitedly pulling his pants on. “I need to know!”

“I will,” Harry nodded. They finished getting dressed and decided to go out and play. Ron and Harry both shared a letter directly to Draco telling him about the games they’ve made up and how Ron really wants to meet him. Draco replied showing his jealousy, but demanded that Ron remembers who brother Harry is.

It was Harry’s last day with the Weasleys and Harry woke up extremely excited, but sad as well. He looked at Ron’s bed where the redhead was still sleeping and jumped into it, hugging the redhead tightly.

“Harry!” Ron yelled shocked, jumping awake.

“I’m going to miss you!” Harry said in the hug. Still sleepy Ron hugged Harry back.

“Today’s your last day,” he frowned.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “I promise to write to you.”

“You better,” Ron said. He stood up, the boys still hugging each other. Ron held Harry in the air for a brief second before letting go. They got dressed and went downstairs.

Mrs. Weasley made all of Harry’s favorites for breakfast. Harry had triple helpings of eggs and bacon and blueberry pancakes and talked with Fred and George about the spells his toy wand can do. Mrs. Weasley sat down and said, “I’ve all your clothes laundered and ironed, Harry. I’ll pack them in your trunk while you and Ron help Charlie with the gnomes.”

“Thank you Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said.

There was a knock on the door and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley looked at it confused. “Who could that be?” Mr. Weasley asked as he stood to open the door. “Minister!” he said shocked as he opened the door.

Minister Bagnold stood in the doorway looking slightly haggard. She nodded politely at Mr. Weasley and said, “Arthur, nice to see you this morning. May I come in?”

“Y-yes,” Mr. Weasley sputtered. He looked at his wife confused and shocked. Mrs. Weasley stood up quickly and said, “Minister Bagnold! W-Would you like some tea? Or maybe some food?”

“Tea would be lovely, thanks,” Minister Bagnold said. She looked at Harry and gave a small smile. “So… it’s finally been a month.”

“Uh-huh,” Harry nodded.

“And finally the choice is up to you Harry,” The Minister said. “No outside pressure or stuffy Wizengamot to stop us here,” she added a small rueful smile, “so what will it be Harry Malfoy? Are you ready to go home?”

“Yeah, I want to see Mummy and Daddy and Draco again,” Harry nodded. “But…”

“But?”

“Can I finish my breakfast?” Harry asked sheepishly. “I remember that last time those mean-looking people didn’t allow me to even eat!”

Minister Bagnold stared at Harry for a second before barking out a loud, jolly laugh. “Of course, Harry! Eat your fill and we’ll bring you home!”

“How is he going home, Minister?” Mr. Weasley asked.

“By floo of course,” The Minister said. “Him getting here, with the reporters and aurors, that was all the Wizengamot’s, mostly Cornelius’s, idea. But coming home? We’ll take the quick way. Now, if you excuse me, I’ll just send a quick owl to your parents to let them know to expect us shortly.”

Harry nodded quickly as the Minister asked Mr. and Mrs. Weasley for parchment and quill to borrow. He looked at Ron and smiled, “I’m going home!” he said cheerfully.

“Yeah… that’s great,” Ron said trying to give a smile.

“What’s the matter?” Harry asked.

Ron shook his head, “Nothing, nothing’s the matter.”

“I’m not going to forget you, you know,” Harry said. “I promise to write every day.”

“Yeah but… you’re going to a _big_ mansion,” Ron whispered. “And I’m just here.”

“So? I’m still going to write to you, and Fred and George and Charlie and Bill and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and—“

“And you’re just going to write to us,” Ron frowned, looking entirely heartbroken. “We’ll never see each other again.”

“Of course we will,” Harry said. “There’s Hogwarts right! That’s only… six years away—“

“ _Six years!_ ”

“And I’ll talk to my Mummy and Daddy,” Harry said. “I’ll convince them to make you visit. Or me visit you. …And I’m bringing Draco. …And Blaise.”

“Good luck with that,” Ron muttered. “Harry, you might not have noticed this but you know the Pureblood stuff right?”

“Uh-huh, Draco and Blaise told me all about it,” Harry said.

“Well the rest of those types of families hate my family,” Ron said. “There’s no way they’ll even think of allowing us to see each other again.”

“No! I won’t allow it,” Harry huffed, crossing his arms. “If I want to see you again I will. That’s that.”

“Harry…”

Harry shook his head, looking extremely stubborn. “No do not worry about it,” he said. He pointed a finger dramatically at Ron and said, “They can’t keep us apart because you’re now my husband!”

“What?”

“Draco said that nobody can take us apart because we’re husbands,” Harry said. “So now you’re my husband too. That means my Mummy and Daddy and all the other Pureblood wizards can’t keep us apart.” Harry looked at Ron confidently, his child-like logic sounding perfectly foolproof and reasonable to him. He nodded to himself for his intelligence.

“I don’t think it works that way,” Ron said.

“Don’t care. I said what I meant,” Harry said. “You’re my husband now too and that means we can’t be apart. I’m going to write and visit so much you’ll never miss me.”

Ron smiled at that and they both gave each other a silent agreement, Harry moving in for a hug. The Minister came back a moment later and sat down quietly and waited patiently as Harry finished his breakfast. He and Ron took their times eating, Harry was determined to stay with Ron as long as possible, but soon the food began to disappear as they continued to eat. The Minister gave a small smile and asked, “All done?” as Harry finished his last bite.

Feeling bloated Harry just nodded. The Minister finished her tea and stood up to put the cup in the sink. “Right, well are you all packed?”

“I think so,” Harry said. He looked at Ron.

“Ohh um we’ll go make sure,” Ron said. They excused themselves and got a few extra minutes together as they made sure Harry’s toys and clothes were in Harry’s trunk. Harry hugged Ron one last time and they both went downstairs. “It’s all packed, but we can’t carry it,” Ron said.

“The boys’ll get it,” Mrs. Weasley said. She looked sad as Harry went to hug her.

“Thank you for letting me stay here for a month,” Harry said. “I promise I’ll write to you guys.”

“Stay safe Harry, and you’re welcome here anytime,” Mrs. Weasley said.

“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said. He turned to Mr. Weasley, who shook his hand. “It was nice having you here Harry,” he said.

“Thank you for letting me be here, Mr. Weasley,” Harry said. The twins swooped him in a hug and gave bit comedic kisses to his cheeks. “We’ll miss you Harry!”

“Yeah, who else are we going to play with?” George smirked.

“You have Ron,” Harry said, his face squished between the twin’s.

“Yeah but he’s our brother,” Fred said.

“You’re fair game,” George said.

“Let the boy breath,” Charlie chuckled. The twins let Harry to the floor and Harry turned to Charlie. “It was great meeting you Harry, we’re going to have to play Quidditch one day.”

“When I learn how to fly,” Harry nodded. He hugged Charlie, his head resting on Charlie’s stomach. Harry thought that he’ll miss Charlie the most after Ron. He gave Bill a hug as well, and shook Percy’s hand. He looked at Ginny and smiled. “Bye Ginny, I’ll see you later,” he said to the little girl.

Ginny nodded and grinned. “You’ll let me use the wand next time?” she asked.

Harry shrugged. “Only if Mrs. Weasley said it’s okay.” Ginny nodded and looked at her mum. “Mum! Can I have a toy wand like Harry?”

“We’ll see,” Mrs. Weasley said.

Harry looked at Ron and hugged him for a third time. Ron returned the hug and squeezed Harry. “You better not be lying to me,” he muttered in Harry’s ear.

“I’m not.”

When they finished hugging Harry looked at the Minister and said, “I’m ready.”

“Good, now let’s see… trunk? Here it is… got all your toys and clothes?” she asked.

“Yes,” Harry nodded.

“Good,” The minister said. She took out her wand and tapped Harry’s trunk. It shrunk till it can easily fit in the palm of her hand. She pocketed it and offered her hand to Harry. “Time to go,” she said. Harry nodded and held the Minister’s hand. They moved to the fireplace in the living room and the Minister threw floo powder into it. “Malfoy Manor,” she said and they stepped into the green flames.

Harry’s new friends vanished in an instant as he was transported away to Malfoy Manor. Harry held his eyes shut as they traveled, and didn’t dare to open them until he felt solid ground on his feet. The Minister helped him out of the fireplace and before he had a chance to open his eyes he felt arms wrap around him and Draco’s voice saying, “Harry! You’re home!”

Harry opened his eyes and smiled as he pulled his hand from the Minister’s grasp and hug his brother. “Draco! I missed you so much,” he said. “I have so much to tell you.”

“That can wait for later Harry,” Mr. Malfoy said, patting Harry’s shoulder. “First I want you to tell me what exactly the Weasleys told you.”

“Told me?”

“Yes, naturally I expected they’ve attempted to bad mouth your family name,” Mr. Malfoy said. “Try to seduce you away from your family and into their hands.”

Harry frowned. “No… no they didn’t do that Daddy,” Harry said. “They made me do chores but they were easy and some of them fun! And I always had help—I got to throw gnomes over a garden wall!”

“Gnomes!? They had you touch gnomes?” Mr. Malfoy said looking disgusted. “Those vile blood-traitors.”

“Lucius! Honestly,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “The Minister is still here.” She turned to Minister Bagnold and said, “I’m sorry for Lucius’s behavior, Millicent. He’s been in a rotten mood since Harry left.”

“Understandable,” the Minister said, pulling out Harry’s trunk from her pocket. It grew to its original side as it was placed on the floor. “Although Lucius, I believe that you need a lesson in proper manners before work tomorrow morning. Good-day.” The fireplace blazed an emerald fire and the Minister walked through.

“Gnomes,” Mr. Malfoy muttered distastefully. “Well… at least now this is all behind us and you’re back where you belong Harry. If we’re lucky, you will never see those bumpkins ever again. I’ll be in my study for a while, Narcissa, there is still some paperwork that I need to complete.” Mr. Malfoy left but not before tapping his cane to the floor twice. Three house-elves appeared and took Harry’s trunk.

Harry frowned and looked at Mrs. Malfoy. “Mummy… can I really never see them again?” he asked, doing his best to pout.

Mrs. Malfoy looked at Harry. “You want to see them again?” she asked.

“Uh-huh,” Harry nodded. “I promised them all that I’ll write and visit. Ron will be heartbroken! And Charlie!” He ignored Draco’s look of jealousy for a moment and focused on his mummy, doing his best to make his face look as innocent as possible. He looked at Mrs. Malfoy from over his glasses as they slid down his nose, his bottom lip curled in a puppy-dog pout, and his emerald eyes shimmered faintly.

Mrs. Malfoy stared at Harry’s face and sighed. “I’ll talk with your father about it,” she said. “See if I can’t convince him. Why don’t you two go on and play for a bit?”

“Okay,” Harry nodded. He grabbed Draco’s hand and pulled him outside. “I have so much to tell you,” he smiled, “I don’t know where to begin.”

“Well… then start talking,” Draco said. Harry nodded and began to tell Draco all about his month with the Weasleys.


	10. Christmas Gifts and A Truth Revealed

**The Tenth Chapter**

**Christmas Gifts and A Truth Revealed**

Draco loved Harry’s stories about the Weasleys except for two things. One was that Ron and Harry played Doctor and explored each other’s bodies, despite the fact that Harry and Draco see each other naked every day during bath time; and the second was that Harry told Ron that they’re husbands. “You can’t do that! It’s only supposed to be between me and Blaise!” Draco pouted.

“But I like him too,” Harry said. “Besides he looked really sad!”

“So? You don’t tell him that you’re husbands! It doesn’t work like that!” Draco said.

“And how does it work then?”

“I don’t know but its only supposed to be between me and Blaise!” Draco yelled again.

Both boys didn’t budge from their spots on the argument, but soon life began to gel into normalcy again. Harry kept his promise and wrote to Ron almost weekly. On the third week he got Draco to write Ron a letter.

They began to take even more lessons, much to Harry’s annoyance. He just wanted to play with Draco! The only good thing was that these lessons were with Blaise, and they were at his house so every day Draco and Harry would travel to his house to learn and play and Mrs. Malfoy would come around dinner time to take Harry home. The first time Blaise saw Harry he pulled the small boy into a bone-crushing hug and refused to let go of him like a kid holding his favorite toy. Harry didn’t mind as he missed his best friend very much. Blaise was so adamant of not letting Harry go that during their first lesson he made the boy share the seat with Blaise, causing Harry to half sit on his lap and the chair at the same time. Draco was jealous of that, so Harry sat on his chair and lap the next day before sitting by himself on the third.

Before Harry knew it, summer was falling into winter and Mrs. Malfoy had the house-elves pulling out the Christmas decorations. Ron’s latest letter came and Harry couldn’t help but grin to himself as he ran to Mrs. Malfoy with an idea in his head. “Mummy! Mummy!” he said excitedly.

“What is it Harry?” Mrs. Malfoy asked.

Harry brandished the letter and said, “Bill and Charlie are home for Christmas! I need to buy them a Christmas present! And Ron! And Mr. and Mrs. Weasley! And Fred; and George; and Ginny! …maybe Percy but definitely Ron!”

Mrs. Malfoy chuckled and smiled at Harry. “That’s a lot of presents Harry, do you even know what you want to buy for them?”

“Yes!” Harry said nodding. Mrs. Malfoy shook her head and sighed. “Well, I needed to go buy a nice dress for Delilah anyway… we’ll go in a bit, okay? Go get your traveling cloak.”

Harry smiled and ran off to get his traveling cloak from his room. “Where are you running?” Draco asked as Harry passed his room.

Harry stopped and turned to Draco, “I’m going shopping with Mummy!” He said before running into his room. He came out a few minutes later wearing a heavy dark-green traveling cloak over his clothes. He met with Mrs. Malfoy who was waiting in the foyer. “I’m ready,” he said.

“Good, now we’ll be needing to visit Gringotts first,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “Let’s see… you’re still too young to Apparate, so we’re forced to use the Floo Powder again. Come along, Harry.” Mrs. Malfoy walked away from the foyer and into a small waiting room where a large bowl of floo powder waited. “Stand in the fireplace, Harry,” she said.

Harry stepped over the grate and stood waiting. Mrs. Malfoy took a handful of floo powder and stepped into the fireplace with Harry. With her free hand, she took Harry’s shoulder and griped it tightly. Mrs. Malfoy threw the floo powder into the fireplace and said very clearly, “Gringotts!”

Green flames consumed them and Harry held onto his mother tightly as they traveled through the Floo Network, ending up in the Wizarding Bank. Mrs. Malfoy stepped out of the fireplace and helped Harry out, dusting off any soot before taking his hand. “This way, Harry,” she said and led him deep into the bank. They stopped at a pudgy looking goblin and Mrs. Malfoy pulled out several keys. “Narcissa Malfoy here to withdraw some money,” she said.

The goblin looked at the keys and moved from its ledger. “Follow me,” it squeaked. The goblin led Harry and Mrs. Malfoy to a minecart and tracks. They got in and Harry held on tightly and closed his eyes as they shot off at top speeds. The cart continued to speed around but Harry kept his eyes shut the entire time that he barely even recognized that they stopped. “Harry, this way,” Mrs. Malfoy said.

Harry opened his eyes to see that they were in a very vast and large cave-like system. The cart had stopped in front of a large iron door with many iron bars that weaved and spiraled together. The goblin took Mrs. Malfoy’s keys, pressed them into a lock that Harry didn’t see, and pressed its entire hand against the door. The sound of a lock clicking filled Harry’s ears and the door slowly began to push open, revealing mountains upon mountains of gold. Harry’s eyes glittered as he stared at the gold, his mouth fell open. He could buy _so_ many presents with these! Mrs. Malfoy pulled an empty sack out of one of her pockets and opened it. Gold galleons jumped from the nearest mountain of gold into the sack slowly filling it. When the sack had its fill, the top closed itself up, a long string tying itself around the neck. Mrs. Malfoy pocketed the gold and turned to Harry. “Alright, let’s go buy some presents,” she smiled.

They returned to the minecart and again Harry held his eyes tightly shut as the cart speeded through the cave systems underneath the bank. Mrs. Malfoy led Harry through the bank when the minecart returned, and they left through the front doors. Diagon Alley was tightly packed with shoppers, all of whom were wearing heavy cloaks as snow fell from the sky. Harry could hear the street bustling with conversation and loud hoots from owls close by. Harry stared wide-eyed at all the stores and felt a bubble of excitement fill his tiny body as he shook with enthusiasm. Mrs. Malfoy looked down at him and said, “Oh right! This is your first time at Diagon Alley, well hold onto my hand very tightly Harry. I don’t want to lose you.”

Harry did so and the two descended the stairs from the back and joined the bustling crowd. “So Harry, we’ll get your things first and then mine. What is the first stop?”

“A jokes shop,” Harry said, looking at the letter clenched in his hands. “Ron says that Fred and George loves jokes!”

“Jokes huh?” Mrs. Malfoy said looking around. She gave a small sigh and muttered, “A Malfoy was bound to step into a joke stop eventually, at least I can handle it with grace.”

“What was that, Mummy?” Harry asked.

“Nothing, nothing,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “Hold my hand tightly Harry, the joke shop is this way.” She pointed ahead of them and Harry looked around. He stuck close to Mrs. Malfoy and struggled to see the buildings as the other witches and wizards were blocking his view. Mrs. Malfoy walked with a purpose, her head aimed straight ahead. She did not look around like Harry did, instead she was aiming straight for their destination without any distractions, effortlessly pushing through the crowd. “Here we are,” she said a couple of minutes later. “Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop. I’m sure you can easily find a perfect Christmas gift for these twins here.”

Harry nodded and they entered. The shop was compact and filled with boxes upon boxes of joke products and pranks that Harry never seen before. There were trick wands stacked in a corner right next to a display of _Bernie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans_ , and across of that was a large display of _Dr. Filibuster’s Wet-Start, No Heat Fireworks._ Harry started going towards them, mesmerized, only for Mrs. Malfoy to stop him. “We are not giving the twins fireworks Harry, pick again,” she said simply.

Harry nodded and looked around. He stopped at a small stack of boxes and leaned toward them, reading the product name out loud. “Non-exploooseeve, lum—lumi—luminous balloons!” He grinned to himself.

Mrs. Weasley bent down and picked up one of the boxes. “’Non-explosive luminous balloons,’” she read. “Looks like they just glow and are impossible to pop… seems safe enough.”

“How do you say that word?” Harry asked. “The explooseeve one.”

“Explosive? Ex-plo-sive, Harry,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “E-X-P-L-O-S-I-V-E.”

“Explosive… explosive…” Harry said a couple of times, trying out the word. “Explosive!” he cheered.

“Good job,” Mrs. Malfoy chuckled.

“Those are five for a Galleon,” an old man with a long white mustache called out from behind the counter. Harry turned from the man to Mrs. Malfoy and said, “Can I get these? Please?”

“Five for a Galleon? Get ten then,” Mrs. Malfoy shrugged as she pulled out two galleons and gave them to the old man. Harry grinned and pulled out ten boxes and placed them precariously onto the counter. The man took the boxes before they could fall and dropped them into a bag which he gave to Mrs. Malfoy, who gave to Harry to hold. “Thank you!” Harry said as they exited the room.

“All right Harry, who is next?” Mrs. Malfoy asked.

“Mrs. Weasley! I want to get her… a nice hat,” Harry said looking at Ron’s letter.

“A nice hat?” Mrs. Malfoy asked.

“Uh-huh! And not too… Bill wrote this word… ex…pen…sive. Not too expensive,” Harry nodded.

“Then we go to Madam Malkin’s,” Mrs. Malfoy said., already walking towards the shop. “I must say I haven’t been there in ages. Delilah and I usually go to a different clothing shop a bit a way from here that’s quite expensive. Of course the last time we went there, Parkinson was there with her daughter, you’ll know her by her rather piggish nose, Harry. Of course, she tried to talk to us, and she is a lovely lady, but only in small increments of time for soon it’s ‘my husband’ this and ‘my husband’ that, and while it is a good thing to discuss familial achievements, there is something rather droll and boring when all you here are those achievements, especially when it is the same achievement that you heard a couple of weeks ago when you last saw each other. Another thing Harry, is that when you talk of familial achievements, you would want to change the subject a little, turn from husbands to children or from your family to others, for all you know the person who’s talking to might have some very interesting events happening in their lives that could be useful in tea parties where the conversations starts to wane and you need to keep both the pace and mood constant.”

“What do you talk about?” Harry asked, his head somewhat dizzy from Mrs. Malfoy’s long wind of talk.

“You and Draco of course,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “Why just last week I was telling Mrs. Nott, Mrs. Greengrass, and Delilah about how you’ve stolen Lucius’s broom and flew it to the roof. They were all quite fond of your antics. Of course I left out the spanking you received, so don’t worry about that part, Harry.” Mrs. Malfoy giggled softly to herself as they went into the next shop.

It was a small clothes shop with racks upon racks of robes, shirts and any other clothing a wizard would need. Harry looked around and asked, “Where are the hats?”

“One second Harry,” Mrs. Malfoy said walking to a rack where several magenta robes were hanging. She examined them with idle leisure, picking one up and holding it in front of herself. “What do you think?” she asked as she turned around to Harry.

Harry stared at her and shrugged, he wasn’t the best at picking out clothes. Mrs. Malfoy sighed and muttered, “Brought the wrong son to do clothes shopping,” and placed the robes back. A stout-looking witch came from behind a rack holding green robes and said, “Oh! I knew I heard the bell, well what can I help you with?”

“My son is buying a Christmas gift for his friend’s mother,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “And the friend told him to get her a hat.”

“Well hats are over here, we have a large selection for you to choose from,” Madam Malkin said. Harry and Mrs. Malfoy followed her to a large shelving that covered an entire wall filled with hats. Harry listened to Mrs. Malfoy and Madam Malkin as they discussed which hat would be perfect for Mrs. Weasley, which was difficult since she wasn’t there to get her head measured, but in the end Harry decided on a maroon pointed hat which only costed three galleons and seven sickles. Since they were there, Harry decided to buy Ginny a small robe in the same color as well as a tiny hat as well.

“Well, who’s next Harry?” Mrs. Malfoy asked.

Harry looked at his list. “Bill wrote down something for Percy but I don’t know him very well.”

“Who’s Percy again?”

“He’s a bookworm! Fred’s words not mine, Mummy,” Harry said. “He just stayed in his room mostly and did… stuff, I don’t know.”

“Then we’ll get him a book,” Mrs. Malfoy said simply.

“Okay! Because Charlie wants a book on dragons as well!” Harry smiled.

“And Bill and Ron? And what about Mr. Weasley?” Mrs. Malfoy asked.

“Umm Mr. Weasley loves muggles so something Muggle-related… Ron wrote to get Bill… umm…” Harry squinted at the words.

Mrs. Malfoy frowned and said, “You’re getting an eye appointment after Christmas Harry.”

“I don’t need it! I can see good!” Harry said. “Oh! Get him a broomstick kit and Ron wants… it’s crossed out and written over I can’t read it.”

He gave the piece of paper to Mrs. Malfoy. She read it and said, “Ron wants a toy wand, Harry. Luckily, I am positive that we can get all at Flourish and Blotts. We’ll be having to frequent that place later when you and Draco start going to Hogwarts.”

Harry just nodded and followed Mrs. Malfoy down the road and into the last shop. Flourish and Blotts had shelves that stacked to the ceiling and had books as large as paving stones bound in leather, books the size of postage stamps; books filled with peculiar symbols, and a few books with nothing in them at all! Harry quickly found a small corner where cheap toys were sold and grabbed the first toy wand he could grab. Holding the wand, he followed Mrs. Malfoy as she browsed the covers.

 _“Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Bestiarium Magicum,_ that might be a little too advance… Lockhart’s got a new book Delilah will be happy with that… ahh! How about _Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland?_ Or _Men Who Love Dragons Too Much?”_ Mrs. Malfoy looked down at Harry for his opinion.

“Umm the Dragon Species one,” Harry said.

“Alright,” Mrs. Malfoy nodded, taking down the book as well as Lockhart’s. She smiled down at Harry and said, “Blaise’s mother just loves this man’s writing, she keeps convincing me to read it. She swears that he’ll be the next biggest thing since Edred Warple. Anyway, all we need now is the broomstick kit for Bill and a book for Percy, right?”

“That’s right,” Harry nodded. He looked around the shop and quickly found a small pile of broomstick repair kits and took the top one. He then spent five minutes looking for a book for Percy (a hard task as he doesn’t know much about the boy). He finally stumbled on a book about goblin wars and pulled it out. He went with Mrs. Malfoy to the counter and they quickly paid for everything. Harry held the bags as they left the shop and walked down the street, turning into another street that not many witches or wizards entered. Mrs. Malfoy led Harry to a dress shop and had the little boy sit down in a seat as she carefully browsed the various low-cut dresses all hanging neatly on a rack. Harry kicked his feet in the air as he waited, growing quickly bored as Mrs. Malfoy talked with several women about a couple of dresses.

It was twenty minutes later that they left the shop and returned home. Harry ran with all the packages directly into Draco’s room and shown his adoptive brother the presents he brought for the Weasleys. They ordered house-elves to wrap them up and once they were done Draco brought a quill and they each wrote their names as well as the name of the Weasley the present is for. Harry couldn’t be more excited as he and Draco bring the pile of presents to Mrs. Malfoy to send to the Weasleys, he wished he could see their reaction when they open it on Christmas Day.

 

Harry and Draco both groaned as they looked at each other. They were both wearing stiff dress robes of a dark-green color underneath was a button-down shirt and a tie that was choking Harry’s neck. Mr. Malfoy was standing in front of them, examining their appearances. Draco stood tall, his back straight and stiff as he avoided touching his heavily combed back hair. Harry meanwhile stood straight but had a little hunch as he struggled with the tie that insisted on staying in it’s place no matter how much Harry pulled. His hair was a controllable mess but he couldn’t help but see the annoyed looks Mr. Malfoy gave it as he examined Harry. “Stop struggling Harry, Malfoys never struggle with clothing,” Mr. Malfoy said. “Appearances are everything.”

He motioned to himself. He was wearing an elegant black dress robe over a form-fitting shirt and pants with a tie that fitted perfectly under his chin and went straight down the middle of his body. “Of course,” Mrs. Malfoy’s voice said from behind the three of them, “they can only be good as your conversational skills.”

“Darling, you look lovely,” Mr. Malfoy said holding out his hand for his wife. Mrs. Malfoy took it gracefully and Mr. Malfoy kissed it. She looked at Harry and Draco and smiled, “My don’t you two look absolutely handsome. I’m sure everyone will be talking about you two.”

“Mostly of Harry, I hope,” Mr. Malfoy said. “Remember this Christmas party is to mostly officially showcase him to our… society.”

“And make them think of their little lies, of course,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “I’ve already told the Greengrasses and Parkinsons about tonight. I expect to see their daughters fully outfitted in the best clothes they could buy.”

“And Nott is bringing his son as well,” Mr. Malfoy said.

“What about Crabbe and Goyle?”

“They’ll arrive, those families just loves free food,” Mr. Malfoy said. “Of course others will come as well.”

“Is it true that one of our guest is actually bringing a vampire?” Mrs. Malfoy chuckled.

“I hope not, they’re dreadful creatures,” Mr. Malfoy said.

“A vampire?” Draco said excitedly. “I want to meet one!”

“Me too!” Harry jumped.

“Hopefully not tonight,” Mr. Malfoy said. “Come along you two, into the Hall.” Mr. Malfoy led Harry and Draco into a huge room that was decorated with crystalized snowflakes that hung in midair. The walls had drapes hugging the windows that shown the snow falling down lightly and at the front was a huge Christmas tree decorated in silvers and golds as music played from somewhere unknown. House-elves dressed in the Malfoy family crest were already walking around with trays on their heads filled with drinks and small food. Mr. Malfoy led Harry to the front doors and said, “Our guests are going to come in a minute, we’re to welcome each and every one.”

“Welcome?” Harry asked.

“Yes Harry, we welcome them to our home and thank them for coming,” Mr. Malfoy. “See? Our first guests are already arriving.” He pointed to the front lawn, where Mrs. Zabini and Blaise were walking up the pathway towards the front door. Harry smiled and moved to wave at Blaise but Mr. Malfoy stopped him.

“Don’t wave Harry,” he said. Harry stopped and stayed still until Blaise went up to him. “Delilah, so nice of you to come,” Mr. Malfoy said, kissing both her cheeks.

“It is always a pleasure to visit, Lucius,” Mrs. Zabini said. Harry and Blaise smiled at each other and hugged, much to the disappointment of Mr. Malfoy.

“Harry, you do not hug your guests to welcome them,” he said.

“Calm down Lucius, it’s Harry and Blaise,” Mrs. Zabini said looking at the two amused. “Blaise, let’s go see how Narcissa decorated her home.”

“Okay mother, see you later Harry,” Blaise said.

“Bye!” Harry said, smiling at Blaise. Mr. Malfoy gave him a sharp look but said nothing.

The next people to show up was a puggish man and woman with their daughter. “The Parkinsons,” Mr. Malfoy said to Harry. He smiled and greeted them both, shaking Mr. Parkinson’s hand while kissing Mrs. Parkinson’s cheeks. “And this must be your daughter,” he said indicating to a girl around Harry’s age.

“She is,” Mr. Parkinson said. “Little Pansy here, say hello Pansy.”

“Hello Mr. Malfoy,” the girl said in a highly sweet voice.

“Hello,” Mr. Malfoy said. “This is my son, Harry Malfoy. Say ‘hello,’ Harry.”

“Hello,” Harry said shortly, looking at Pansy. She was wearing a purple dress robe and her hair was done up in a sort of bun. She smiled too… big at him as he offered his hand to shake. She looked at it slightly insulted. “You don’t shake my hand,” she said a bit rudely. “You’re supposed to kiss my cheeks!”

“Pansy, please watch your manners,” said her father, who was a rather fat and dog-looking man.

“But father, you told me yourself, how manners work,” the girl said in a huff. “When a boy greets a girl he’s supposed to kiss her cheeks.”

Harry opened his mouth to argue that he doesn’t want to but Mr. Malfoy stopped him with a glare. Mr. Parkinson looked at Mr. Malfoy apologetically and said, “I am so sorry for my daughter’s attitude.”

“Do not worry about it,” Mr. Malfoy said coolly as the Parkinsons entered his home. He looked down at Harry and said, “You’ve done right by trying to shake her hand, I don’t expect you to kiss everyone’s cheek, but perhaps next time you can avoid causing a scene.”

“But I did nothing wrong,” Harry frowned as the next set of guests arrived. It was the Greengrass family who had two girls whom Harry shook hands with and neither of them were insulted like Pansy. Both Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass were quite curious to the way Harry shook their elder daughter’s hand and the small blush he held when she commented on how small he was. Mr. Malfoy noted both their look and Harry’s blush but said nothing until the Greengrass family was a good distance away.

“I see that Daphne has already taken quite a liking to you,” Mr. Malfoy said. “You two may only be five, but if you develop opposite of your father I dare say she might be a—“

He stopped talking when he saw the look of embarrassed disgust on Harry’s face. Mr. Malfoy stared at Harry confused for a moment but shrugged it off as the Notts arrived. It was just Mr. Nott and his son, Theo, whom Harry took an immediate liking to. After the Nott family came the Flint family. Harry stared at Marcus Flint, who was a few years older than Harry, and said without thinking, “You’re big!”

Mr. Malfoy looked completely shocked and embraced, but Marcus Flint thankfully laughed. “You’re tiny so of course I’m big,” he said. He thrust his hand and said, “Marcus Flint.”

“Harry Malfoy,” Harry smiled shaking the older boy’s hand.

“Better see you in Slytherin, Harry,” Marcus said following his father inside.

“Harry…” Mr. Malfoy said in a warning tone once the Flints were far away. “From now on I believe it would be best for you to be quiet.”

“Sorry Daddy,” Harry frowned, looking down at his feet in shame. The next guest was a man that was older than Mr. Malfoy named Corban Yaxley, followed by two fat and wide families known as the Crabbe family and the Goyle family. Harry thought that Dudley was smarter than both the boys. Harry continued to greet guests silently under Mr. Malfoy’s watchful eyes. It took half an hour for all the guests to arrive. At the end, Harry’s feet were aching from standing in place and he was feeling completely restless. He looked up at Mr. Malfoy and asked, “Is that everyone? I want to go back to Draco.”

“Stop your whining, but yes, that is everyone,” Mr. Malfoy said. “Come along Harry, it’s time to join the party proper.”

“Are there any more rules I need to follow?” Harry couldn’t help but mutter.

“Any more talk like that and I’ll have to send you to your room,” Mr. Malfoy said. “You will act like an obedient boy, Harry. I do not know what the Weasleys did to you, but whatever it is, it is no good.”

Harry glared at him but said nothing. Mr. Malfoy has been silent about his month with the Weasleys and his sending letters to Ron, but it seems that he stills disapproves. Harry walked along with Mr. Malfoy into the party hall and quickly separated from him in search for Draco. He found him with the other kids in a corner of the room. “Harry! There you are,” Draco said looking relieved.

“Hi Draco, I’m so glad I found you,” Harry smiled as he hugged Draco. “Daddy’s being so strict and mean when we’re alone,” he whispered in Draco’s ear. “I thought he was going to spank me.”

“Relax, he won’t do that while other people are here,” Draco whispered. “Come on, let’s meet the kids who aren’t Blaise.”

Harry giggled and nodded. He turned to the others only to see Pansy Parkinson still glaring at him. “Well?” she demanded. “Are you going to kiss me or not?”

“What are you talking about?” Blaise asked.

“My father says that when a boy greets a girl that he’s supposed to kiss her and Potter here hasn’t done that yet!” Pansy said.

“Potter?” Blaise asked slightly confused. He looked at Harry and Draco for a moment. “Oh! Harry!” he said with realization.

“Parkinson we’ve just met, are you really going to be so unlikeable?” Draco drawled. “Don’t call my brother my his wrong last name.”

“Even though I still have it,” Harry nodded.

“Even though he still has it,” Draco nodded along with Harry.

“Still I demanded a kiss!” Parkinson demanded like a stubborn child. “I bet you kissed Daphne and her sister!”

“No he didn’t,” Daphne Greengrass said. “We just shook hands.”

“Uh-huh,” Daphne’s sister said, Harry already forgot her name.

“He hugged me,” Blaise couldn’t help but smirk.

“YOU! Why did you hug him and not kiss me!” Parkinson demanded.

“Because we know each other?” Harry suggested. “Besides I don’t want to kiss you, your nose looks like a pug’s nose and your voice reminds me of a Rottweiler.”

Pansy stared at Harry, utterly shocked. “I…I… Daddy!” she cried off running. Harry watched her run before turning to Blaise and Draco, both of whom were failing to stifle their chuckles.

“For such a little boy, you have a big voice,” said the big Marcus Flint.

“Thanks,” Harry smiled and he started to have a rather pleasant conversation with the other children.

 

“I’m sure we’ve all read the articles, Narcissa, but you must tell us how you’ve came to have him,” Mrs. Parkinson said.

“Yes, you must!” Mrs. Greengrass said. “Your endless teasing of the story is just dreadful! How could you survive while he was off with blood traitors!?”

Mrs. Malfoy looked around the small gaggle of mothers surrounding her and smiled politely. “Of course, I guess I could tell you all now,” she said. “This is Harry’s second Christmas with us, he’s been with us for a full year now—“

“And you’re just introducing him to us now? Narcissa, you should have done that way before he was forced to be with those hicks,” Mrs. Parkinson said. “We all could have helped you keep him on the _straight_ and narrow.”

“Are you trying to imply something, dear Violet?” Mrs. Malfoy asked. “I couldn’t help but notice the way you’ve emphasis a certain word.”

“It’s just… well we all heard the rumors of his father, Narcissa,” Mrs. Parkinson said sweetly. “We wouldn’t want the boy to develop to turn exactly into the father, do we?”

“If that is your thinking, then I hope he does turn into exactly like his father,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “After all, both Lucius and James were pleasant men.”

“Especially James,” Mrs. Zabini said. “Though, you would know nothing of pleasant, would you Parkinson, seeing that husband of yours you carry around.”

“At least I have a husband, Delilah,” Mrs. Parkinson said.

“I had a husband, and I had five more after that,” Mrs. Zabini said. “I’ve learned a lesson that your girls should learn quickly too.”

“And what is that?”

“Men are unnecessary,” Mrs. Zabini said. “They can give you nice things, but they never give you pleasure.”

Several women blushed and giggled under their hands as they covered their mouths in a sophisticated, elegant, and unnatural manner. Mrs. Parkinson just looked at Mrs. Zabini in an unusual anger.

“Getting back to the point, Narcissa, how are you going to raise Potter?” someone asked.

“Simple, I am just raising him as if he is my son, which he is. We’ve got the adoption papers and everything,” Narcissa said. “He still has Potter in his name, in case he wishes to use it later on, but for all intent and purposes he is a Malfoy through and through.”

“But what about… well, you know?”

“Those Death Eaters? What about them?” Mrs. Malfoy asked, picking up a flute of wine from a passing house-elf and taking a sip. “He is being raised as a Malfoy and any morals that we…I find acceptable,” she said.

“Besides, your husbands need to finally learn that You-Know-Who is gone, gone, gone,” Mrs. Zabini said. “Who cares about a dead man’s opinion?”

“Bold words from a woman who wouldn’t even participate in the war,” Mrs. Parkinson said.

“Better to do nothing and survive than do something and die, Violet,” Mrs. Zabini said. She looked over their shoulder and chuckled. “Looked at how our kids are getting along.” She pointed to the group of children who were talking. Harry was between Blaise and Draco and talked animatedly while both boys had a hand on his back.

“Why are they holding him like that?” Mrs. Parkinson said with a cross look on her face.

“Oh they’re husbands,” Mrs. Zabini said casually. “That’s what they call their friendship anyway.”

“How disgust—I mean how nice,” Mrs. Parkinson said as both Mrs. Zabini and Mrs. Malfoy glare at her.

“Let’s see… Harry has three husbands now, I believe,” Mrs. Malfoy chuckled. “There’s Draco and Blaise, obviously, and also Ron.”

“Ron?” Mrs. Flint asked.

“Ronald Weasley,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “The country hick as one of us so lovingly decides to call him. Both Harry and Draco mail him weekly.”

The other women glanced at each other nervously. Mrs. Malfoy just waited patiently for them to react. No one was saying anything so she continued, “Of course, I am currently trying to coordinate a play date with the Weasleys, Harry misses them so much.”

“But they’re—“

“They’ve picked the opposite side during the war, they value morals that some of us don’t particularly care about, and they are, as we call them, blood traitors,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “However, when Harry is forced to live away from us for a month we were fortunate that it was the Weasleys the Ministry picked and not some other family.”

“Fortunate?”

“Yes, fortunate,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “Though I see that trying to defend that point is moot with you ladies.”

“Then let’s talk about something else,” Mrs. Zabini said. “Narcissa, you’ll be very pleased to hear that the tutor for our boys say that they’re doing brilliantly. Although Harry’s handwriting leaves something to be desired.”

“If I remember correctly, didn’t James not have the best handwriting?”

“He did,” Mrs. Zabini said. “In fact…”

 

The moon was high in the sky when Harry walked out into the garden. The party was going on for a couple of hours and Harry was exhausted. The other children were demanding question after question of him, wanting to know every single minuscule detail of his life just so they can gloat about it to their parents. Harry didn’t mind so much but he was really tired and just wanted to go to bed. It was almost ten at night! Harry should be fast asleep by now! Alone in the garden, Harry looked around at the snow-covered flowerbeds and couldn’t help but wonder what Ron and the others were doing. Were they forced to attend a big boring party like this when all he wanted to do was sleep? Or was he playing with his brothers after eating one of Mrs. Weasley’s home-cooked meals? Harry missed her cooking. The elves were good, but there was something about Mrs. Weasley’s cooking that the elves couldn’t even begin to replicate.

Harry gave a yawn and stretched his arms out. If it weren’t for all the snow he would have collapse then and there and take a nap. He walked further into the garden and stopped. The hairs on the back of his neck started to rise and Harry couldn’t help but feel like he was being watched. He turned around quickly only to be face-to-face with a huge black dog. Harry gave a small yelp of fright and jumped away. The dog stayed still and just stared at Harry. Harry looked at the dog.

They’ve stared at each other for some time before Harry took a cautious step forward. “H-Hello,” he said. “Are you going to eat me?”

The dog shook his head and gave a snort.

“Well… you look umm rather hungry,” Harry said looking at the dog. “Are you hungry?” The dog nodded. “Then… I need to get you food! But Daddy would get really mad if I bring a dog in the house, he wasn’t very happy when I brought the snake in that one time… I know, I’ll sneak you in! Come on!” Harry looked for a leash to pull the dog but found none. So instead he placed his small hand on the dog’s neck and walked with it, his hand gently pulling at the fur. The dog followed and they’ve reached the back door. “We have to be very quiet, okay, doggy?” Harry whispered. “Daddy and Mummy are having a huge party just on the other side of the corridor… but nobody will see us if we move quietly.”

He patted the dog and opened the door. Still leading the dog with his hand on his neck, Harry walked quietly down the corridor, the talk and music of the party playing through the walls as Mr. Malfoy and his guests continue unawares of the new occupant. “Come on,” Harry whispered as they almost reached the end of the corridor. “We go into the foyer and run upstairs!”

Harry stopped at the set of closed doors and opened them. He peaked through to look into the empty foyer and turned to the dog. “All clear,” he whispered and the two immediately started running into the foyer and up the staircase. Harry turned into his and Draco’s corridors and quickly made the way into his room. “Here we are! Safe!” Harry smiled. “That was easier than I thought it would be. You stay right there,” Harry pointed to the rug in the middle, “and I’ll get you some food, okay doggy?”

The dog barked in appreciation and moved to the spot Harry indicated, sitting down on it. Harry turned to leave, closing the door behind him. He went down the stairs and returned to the party, looking for a house-elf. “You! Ummm Dobby right?” Harry asked.

“Yes Mr. Harry, sir,” the house-elf said.

“I need food, all the food you can get,” Harry said.

“Y-Yes sir!” the house-elf squeaked. It ran towards the banquet table and proceeded to fill the tray it was carrying with as much food as it could fit, piling food on top of food. It returned to Harry with the tray and Harry went to grab it but the house-elf gave a scared shriek when he did. “Master Harry cannot carry the tray, sir!” it said.

Harry frowned and said, “Fine, follow me and you can’t say any of this to my dad.” He turned and led the house-elf out of the room, into the foyer, up the stairs, and into his room. The dog was still sitting in the spot and Harry told Dobby to leave the tray on the floor and disappeared. The house-elf did so and Harry turned to the dog and said, “I don’t know if anything of this is safe for a dog to eat… it should… but I’m sorry if it isn’t.”

The dog looked at Harry for a moment, as if contemplating something, then before Harry’s eyes it shifted into a man. The man looked haggard, his cheeks were hollowed in, his black hair was long and grisly-looking and his clothes were a pair tattered shirt and pants. Most of all he looked thin, dreadfully thin. Harry’s eyes widen and he opened his mouth to scream but the man placed his dirty finger to his lips and said, “Hush Harry, hush, we don’t want my cousin come running up here.”

“How—How do you know my name?” Harry asked.

“That’s a long story Harry, and I would rather tell it with a full stomach,” the man said. “For now just call me Sirius, alright? I knew your father very well.”

“S-Sirius!? You’re the guy that my dad was supposed to marry!” Harry said.

“Yes, yes, I know,” the man said a bit darkly. “But that’s for later.”

“What do you know about my dad? What was he like? Why did he marry my mum instead of you? Mrs. Zabini said that he was a Parseltongue too, was that true? Why didn’t you guys married? Is my Dad a Dark Wizard like Mrs. Zabini said? Are you one as well? What—“

“Easy Harry, stop with the questions,” Sirius said as he stuffed his mouth with the food on the plate, taking a huge bite out of an apple. “I told you I’ll answer your questions when I’m done eating. I had a bit of a swim to get here.”

“But I want to know now!” Harry said.

“Fine,” Sirius swallowed. “One question. Then the rest waits till I’m finished with my food.”

“Okay,” Harry said eagerly.

“Now… ask your question,” Sirius said, picking up a bit of ham. Harry thought for a moment and then asked, “Why am I a Parseltongue? Mrs. Zabini said that my dad’s one as well, but how is that possible?”

“Easy,” Sirius said. “You know Voldemort? The big scary guy the idiotic lot downstairs worships? He was James’s dad. Not that he was ever a good one, mind you. Didn’t even know James was his own son. Anyway yeah, James got it from his dad, and you got it from yours. Sorry about that.”


	11. Exposition

**The Eleventh Chapter**

**Exposition**

“Explain,” Mrs. Malfoy demanded. She, her husband, her two sons, Mrs. Zabini and her son were sitting in a small room all staring at a grizzled, disheveled-looking Sirius Black who had a plate of food in front of him that he was still eating from. The guests were all dismissed politely, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy using Harry’s and Draco’s age as an excuse to end their party over.

“Explain what?” Sirius Black asked with a mouth full of food. “Explain how some Dark Lord lovers got my godson? Or maybe how about how I got into Azkaban in the first place?”

“Nice to see that place didn’t take your bark away, dog,” Mrs. Zabini said.

Sirius smirked and said, “It’s lovely to see you too Delilah.”

“Harry told us that you’ve told him that the Dark Lord is his grandfather,” Mr. Malfoy said. “Explain how that is possible, Black, before I call the dementors here.”

Sirius glared at Mr. Malfoy and took a huge bite of the chicken he was holding. “I’ll you the same thing I told Harry,” he said. “The rest waits till I finish my food.”

He continued to eat but Mr. Malfoy took out his wand and with a flick, all the food disappeared. “You will tell us now, Black, as it seems your food is gone,” Mr. Malfoy said simply.

“Bastard,” Sirius muttered under his breath. He looked around and pouted briefly. “Fine… I’ll tell,” he grumbled.

Sirius relaxed back into the chair he was sitting and looked around slowly, his eyes hovering over everyone before stopping at Harry, who was holding Draco’s hand. Sirius made a small noise and said, “You look so much like your father Harry, your real father,” he looked at Harry with a soft expression in his eyes. “James would have been so proud…”

“Stop delaying and tell us,” Mr. Malfoy demanded once more.

“I’m getting to that!” Sirius said. He looked at Harry and kept his eyes only on him. “I wish I could tell you all of this without our interlopers here; I wish I could turn back time and make sure that all those terrible things never happened, but we don’t have the ability to do so. So I’ll have to tell you the truth with everyone around us. But before I do… what do you know about me? About your dad?”

“You do not need to answer him Harry, just let him talk so we can return the dog to his rightful place,” Mr. Malfoy said.

“Lucius, shut up,” Mrs. Zabini said. She looked down at Harry and said gently, “You can say whatever you want Harry. Don’t let Lucius over here try stop you. He might be your adopted father, but that man right there? He’s your Daddy. Or as close as you’ll actually get.”

“Thank you Delilah… I think,” Sirius said. He turned to Harry “Anyway, what do you know Harry? It’ll help me know where to start.”

Mr. Malfoy scoffed but Harry ignored him. “I know that you and my dad were going to marry each other but for some reason my dad married my mum,” he said. “I know that… my dad was a Parseltongue… and he was sassy! Mrs. Zabini told me that part.” Harry smiled at Mrs. Zabini who laughed while clapping her hands a couple of times.

Sirius chuckled and gave a small smile, “James was always known for his sass… even when I had him right where I wanted him, James would be quick with a one-liner. What else, Harry?”

“It’s a mystery why my Dad is a Parseltongue—”

“Mouth,” Sirius said. “The language is Parseltongue, but those who speak it are called Parselmouth. Your father was a Parselmouth, as well as that awful thing you’re forced to call a grandfather.”

“And me! I can talk to snakes too,” Harry said. “And that’s it… that’s all I know about my dad.”

Sirius nodded and gave a long, heavy sigh. “Then, I believe I will have to explain everything from the beginning. Give you an exposition, if you will.”

“What’s an exposition?” Harry asked.

“It’s an explanation, Harry,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “Think of it as my cousin telling us a long and detailed story.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded.

“Right… so let’s begin,” Sirius said. “First, a little bit about Fleamont Potter and his wife, Euphemia. They were a lovely couple, one of the nicest people you would ever meet. They had one problem, however: they were having great difficulty producing a child, and they were so old. One day, Dumbledore came to them holding a newborn infant who needed a home. Heartbroken by the sight of the crying child, they’ve thanked Dumbledore and gave the baby a loving home. As you can guess it, that child was your father, Harry, James. What they didn’t know, and what James and I found out years later, was that James’s true parents were Voldemort and an unknown woman. We don’t know why Voldemort would want a son, or a child at all, after all he is the most heartless man in the world… well, second heartless, but still the mystery remains of why Voldemort would want to have James.

“Anyway, the old couple were too thrilled to finally have a child so they raised James as their own. We met in Hogwarts, both of us were in Gryffindor but I knew right away that there was something… odd about him. He confided in me first that he was a Parseltongue. This was after a month we’ve been dating, we were thirteen. They were good people, the Potters, helped me whenever I wanted them to. But more about James… we met at Hogwarts, both of us were in Gryffindor and we became fast friends. It was the three of us, James, myself, and our friend Remus. But let’s not talk about him now.

“James… it was easy to see that he wasn’t like his parents. He was a jokester, a prankster, a regular arrogant kid on the outside, but on the inside… he was different, very different. He had a bit of a mean streak that we’ve gone alone with. Two of his regular victims were Pettigrew, a sniveling kid who always stuck his nose in business that he doesn’t belong in, and Snape, who… well he’s Snape, who cares about him? But he was always nice, James, to everyone else. Despite being Voldemort’s son, James turned out to be a good kid, well to his friends anyway. I always had a feeling that both James and I were different, I just didn’t know that it was because of our sexualities and more. I’ve knew I was gay since I was nine, and I always had a feeling about James, but didn’t really confirmed it until our third year.”

“What happened?” Harry interrupted.

Sirius smirked and said, “Oh easy, James walked in on me in the bathroom and kissed me then and there. Luckily I was just washing my hands so I still had my pants on!” Sirius laughed. “But yeah… your dad was never known for being cautious Harry, he was the type to walk into the bathroom and kiss you without even thinking twice! I remember smirking down at him, he was rather a small boy, and say ‘I guess you’re my boyfriend now’ and he shook his head and said’ no, you’re _my_ boyfriend now,’ before kissing me again. Your father had a flair for dramatics. Anyway, we started dating and during that time, I’ve learned that your father was a Parselmouth.

“We were… where were we… oh yeah, we were kissing in an empty classroom. He stopped me as I tried and leave a nice big mark on his neck and moved away. I thought I did something wrong, but he stopped me thinking that way and told me he had something important to tell me. ‘Please don’t judge me for what I’m about to show you,’ he said. It was cute, looking at how nervous he was looking. ‘James,’ I said, ‘we knew each other for three years, there’s no way I’ll judge you.’ He looked so nervous but he just looked up at me, his brown eyes staring into me as he said, ‘I’m a Parselmouth’ and proceeded to talk in the snake language.

“It was quite a sight, listening to James hiss and watching his tongue slither around… he loved doing it while we were alone. Though we had no idea where the ability came from, Harry. He always had it, like you always had it Harry, and he would never have told his parents about it. ‘I know what the others say about parselmouths,’ he said to me after he told me, ‘we’re dark wizards, people to be afraid of… I don’t want my mum and dad to be afraid of me.’ We both knew that there was no way he got the ability from either his mum or dad, though at the time we didn’t know that it was because they weren’t his real parents. Maybe it was an ability long laid dormant in his family until it manifested in him, or maybe he was a distant relative of Slytherin. Whichever the reason, James wanted to know.

“That was when we started to… dabble in the Dark Arts. I wanted nothing to do with it, Dark Magic. My family glorifies it and the madman known as Lord Voldemort. I was the odd one out, getting sort in Gryffindor instead of Slytherin like the rest of my family, and actually having positive opinions on Muggles and Muggleborns. If they knew that I actually dipped my toe in the Dark Arts… I fear it would give my mother a heart attack… maybe I should do that just to kill the old broad…”

“Too late for that, Aunt Walburga’s died this year,” Mrs. Malfoy interrupted.

Sirius smiled at her and said, “The second greatest thing that happened this year!” He turned his attention back to Harry and said, “Sorry ‘bout that. …Anyway. Your dad and I started… searching for any reason why he could speak parseltongue. We’ve spent so many months looking at any book we could find on the Dark Arts and snakes, trying to find anything that could even hint at James’s lineage. We went to school during Voldemort’s up rise and war, Harry you see, I think it started back in 1970 and we started Hogwarts the year after that. He was always in the background, everyone was talking about him… looking back at it, I guess it was obvious. I mean, both he and James were parselmouths, but it didn’t take us until we were fifteen to finally figured it out. We’ve read in a newspaper article about the Dark Lord’s ability to speak to snakes and his claim that he descends from Slytherin himself. We were able to trace Slytherin’s family line until around the late eighteen hundred before it disappeared as well, so we’ve finally gave a guess and we were right. That winter break James went to his parents and asked if he was adopted, they’ve told him he was though that didn’t change anything. And with that, we both knew that Voldemort was James’s father, though we did not know what to do with that information.

“We did not want to join Voldemort, that’s just insane. I mean, the man’s a mass-murdering lunatic with idiots for followers! Who the hell would want to follow that man? On the other hand, however, James became a bit of an addict to the Dark Arts. He was always muttering to himself, talking about spells he could improve and spells he could make. Believe it or not in seventh year he invented and performed a spell that would allow him to be pregnant! Him! A guy! Pregnant! I bet you can’t even begin to imagine that, but he did that. He was always great with Transfiguration, your father was. He’s the reason why I’m an Animagus, a wizard who can turn into an animal, but I’ll save that story for later.

“Anyway, while your dad did dabble in the Dark Arts, there was no way he wanted to join the Dark Lord, he told me him himself. He said, ‘If Voldemort is really my dad, then I guess he’s a terrible one for not even trying to look for me after all these years.’ And you can easily agree with him, I mean James is the man’s son and he didn’t even attempt to look for him. That was also the year that I proposed to James, and he accepted. We were going to be married, you see, but that’s when Dumbledore interfered.

“I don’t know why he did what he did, but Dumbledore ruined three lives with his interference: Mine, your dad’s, and your mum, who was our friend at the time. I learned this after the fact, right before I’ve been sentenced to Azkaban, you see. Dumbledore… he forced your parents to marry. He fed them love potions that he modified himself and half a year before our wedding, James pulled it off, told me that we were just best friends, and that he was in love with our friend Lily. He then made me the best man at _their_ wedding with was just a slap in the face. I was so heartbroken and angry, but I couldn’t keep away from James. I still loved him… I still love him, but seeing him kissing Lily, seeing him dancing with her and soon hearing that they had a child… it was just so humiliating. All three of us were victims, Harry, you have to understand this, neither of us didn’t want it. I didn’t want it, obviously; your father didn’t want it, and Lily did not want this. Do you understand that Harry?”

“Y-Yeah,” Harry said, finding his voice suddenly dry.

“Good. Because I am sure there are people out there who even after hearing my story will still try and blame your mother,” Sirius said. “She was a sweet girl, Lily, she deserved better that this. … After we all graduated, we’ve gotten swept up in the war. James joined first, and I and Lupin followed after. And Pettigrew… that sniveling boy always seemed to follow us for some reason. I knew he was crazy from the moment I’ve laid eyes on him. When James and I became Animagi, the idiot actually did the same and—I’ll talk about that later.

“James seemed to have forgotten everything about his past. I tried to talk to him about his Dark Arts and ability to speak Parseltongue, but he had no idea what I was talking about… he seemed to be angry at the suggestion that he was a Dark Wizard! I guess that the potion and spell that Dumbledore forced on him messed with his memories. He had no idea that he was Voldemort’s son, that he was an accomplished spell-maker, or that he changed his body in order to conceive and carry our baby.

“We continued to fight the war, and two years after we graduated you were born Harry. While you weren’t mine, I couldn’t be happier seeing you in your dad’s arms. He asked me to be your godfather, and I didn’t even hesitate to accept. I loved holding you Harry, you were so small… and looked exactly like James. I visited as often as I could before your parents were forced to go into hiding. Then… only a few months later, Voldemort murdered James and Lily, and I thought that you were lost to me forever.

“Pettigrew, the awful, disgusting rat who always followed up around, he betrayed your father, he betrayed the man I loved and almost got you killed. I should have gone straight to you, I should have gone to the ruins and picked you up instead of what I’ve done. But I was angry, too angry, to think rationally. I went to search for the man who betrayed you and your parents, and I tried to kill him. To give the rat credit, he made me look to be a murderer, yelling that it was me who killed James before causing an explosion that killed twelve muggles. He cut his own finger off and went scurrying away like a rat while I was captured and imprisoned in Azkaban.

“I just wasted away in my cell, not thinking or even caring… that was until I saw a picture. It was you, and the Weasleys, and most importantly… Pettigrew. Imagine my surprise to see the little rat sitting on one of the Weasley boys’ shoulder! You see, the animal that Pettigrew shifts into was a rat fittingly enough—”

“He’s Scabbers!?” Harry gasped.

“He is indeed,” Sirius nodded. “He can change into a rat at will, and when I came after him, he shifted into a rat and made everyone believe that I killed him. But that doesn’t matter now Harry. I finally have you again… James would have wanted me to raise you if anything happens to him, and now I can fulfil that—”

“Absolutely not, Black,” Mr. Malfoy said, finally having enough. He glared down at the disheveled man. “That was all a very nice story you told us, honestly once could practically imagine you reading directly from a book it was that convincing. However, there are a few facts that you seemed to have forgotten. The first one is that Harry is mine. He is my son, and he will always be my son. It doesn’t matter what a dead man wants, Harry is now a Malfoy and will always be a Malfoy—”

“Lucius!” both Mrs. Malfoy and Mrs. Zabini said in surprised anger.

“Not now,” Mr. Malfoy sneered. “I will not allow that ragged, deformable abomination of a man to even think of touching my son, Harry Malfoy. I am his father, not you Black. I provided him a home, I have a steady income and can offer Harry the possibilities of many lifetimes. What can you offer? A cellblock and the Kiss. Both of which Harry will never see. I do not care about your love story gone awry, I do not care that Dumbledore ruined Lily and James Potter’s lives, that is just another example of what the old man has done. I do hope you understand what I am trying to say Black, but in case you don’t, allow me to say it in plain terms: You will _never_ see Harry after this. The boy belongs to me, he is _my_ son and _you_ are going back to Azkaban.”

A deafening silence filled the room. Sirius and Mr. Malfoy stared at each other, Sirius’s eyes filled with immediate and intense hatred while Mr. Malfoy looked aloof and cockily superior; Harry, Blaise, and Draco looked between each other, all scared of what is going to happen; Mrs. Malfoy looked extremely frightened while Mrs. Zabini looked to be growing in anger. Then, before anyone could move to intervene, Sirius leapt and grabbed Mr. Malfoy by the neck of his robes. “YOU WILL NOT!” He roared in Mr. Malfoy’s face before curling his hand into a fist and punching Mr. Malfoy’s nose, breaking it.

“Sirius!”

“Lucius!”

The woman moved to intervene, both pulling Sirius off of the bleeding Mr. Malfoy, whose blood was smearing his pale skin.

“I am calling the Dementors myself if I have to Black, and having them perform the Kiss,” Mr. Malfoy said as he stood up, slapping Mrs. Malfoy’s hand away as she tried to help. “Or…” he picked up his cane and gripped the head tightly, “I’ll kill you myself here and leave the Dementors the trouble.”

“You will not! Harry is mine!” Sirius yelled. “I will not allow him to live in a house owned by a Dark Lord lover like you!” He turned quickly to Harry, who flinched and moved closer to Draco and Blaise, and said, “Harry, I am so sorry for all of this, I should have gone directly to get you instead of leaving my bike to Hagrid! I can never forgive myself for doing that—”

“And you’ll never live long enough to do that—”

“That’s it!” Mrs. Zabini yelled. She took out her wand and aimed it at Mr. Malfoy. “You will drop your cane this instant Lucius! And you,”—she aimed the wand at Sirius— “will go upstairs and take a long shower. Narcissa, make sure that they don’t kill each other, will you? Harry, you remember what that rat looks like?”

“Y-Y-Yes, Mrs. Zabini,” Harry stuttered.

“Good. Then let’s get going,” Mrs. Zabini said.

“And where are you going with my son!”

“To the Weasley’s, you idiot and now go have a drink and cool down you egotistic, long-haired, maniac,” Mrs. Zabini said. She pocketed her wand and turned to Harry. She softened her expression lightly and said, much more gently, “Come on Harry, let’s go. Blaise, you’re coming with us as well.”

“Okay mother.”

“Yes, Mrs. Zabini.” Harry squeaked. He looked at Sirius, stared at him for a moment, and bit his lip before walking away with Mrs. Zabini. Mrs. Zabini stopped at Mr. Malfoy and forced the cane out of his hand before giving it to Mrs. Malfoy.

Mrs. Zabini left, Harry and Blaise following her as the woman muttered to herself, “Stupid long-haired ego ruining our Christmas Eve… what time is it anyway? We better not be waking these Weasleys up because of him. Come on boys, Harry what is the Weasley’s address?”

“The Burrow in Ottery St Catchpole, Devon, England,” Harry said, who memorized the address from writing so many letters to Ron.

“Devon huh? Easy enough,” Mrs. Zabini said. “We’ll Apparate there. Both of you hold on tightly to me. …Harry hold Blaise’s hand as well.” Harry and Blaise held each other’s hands very tightly as they both grasp onto Mrs. Zabini’s waist, both practically hugging her as she turned on the spot and disappeared.

 

Mrs. Malfoy led Sirius towards the nearest bathroom but stopped him just before he entered it. “A word, Sirius,” she said.

“What is it, cousin?” Sirius said a bit bitterly. “Are you going to stand in my way of taking my godson?”

“Yes, but more importantly, I want to ask you something,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “You claim that Harry’s father James is desencent from the Dark Lord, whom I should tell I had no idea of my husband’s support”—Sirius made an unamused noise of disbelief—" I did not know! I swear, but nevertheless the family tapestry which shows all pureblood families shows James as a direct descendant of the Potters, not the Dark Lord. How do you explain that?”

“What are you talking about?” Sirius huffed. “What tapestry?”

“Shows how much of a good son you are,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “Every pureblood family has a tapestry that shows out lineage.”

“You mean the wallpaper that my dear old mother singed my portrait off when I ran away? I don’t care for it.”

“Well, I do,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “There is a direct stem from James’s parents to himself, and then to Harry. Whereas Harry only has a partial stem from himself to us, showing that we have adopted him. No such stem for James and his parents.”

“Really… now did that tapestry know about James’s adoption?”

“No but—”

“Did you, or your loving husband know about James’s adoption?” Sirius questioned her.

“No—”

“Then how should the tapestry know?” Sirius shrugged.

“Are you saying that the tapestry requires the owner’s knowledge of the family ancestry?” Mrs. Malfoy asked.

Sirius shrugged and said, “I don’t know, I’m just saying this so you can leave me alone. The sooner I can get that rat, the sooner Harry and I can live together like how James wanted.”

Mrs. Malfoy gave Sirius a sharp look and muttered coldly, “I think you should just go inside now.”

“Why? Are you going to curse me, dear cousin?” Sirius asked. “Harry’s mine as soon as I have that rat.” He turned and closed the door behind him, leaving Mrs. Malfoy alone in the corridor, staring coldly at the empty door.

 

“This is where you lived for a month, Harry?” Mrs. Zabini asked, looking distastefully at the Weasley house. It was practically midnight, the snow just finished falling and now the cloudy sky hovered over everything. Harry and Blaise were both holding Mrs. Zabini’s hand.

“Yeah, it’s amazing,” Harry said.

“If you say so,” Mrs. Zabini said, still looking rather disgusted at the makeshift home. “It’s no mansion, not even have proper supporting or anything… is that a hen house?”

“Yeah, they raise their own chickens here,” Harry nodded. “Sometimes I help Charlie feed the hens and then we go de-gnome the garden. It’s really fun!”

“You poor, deluded child,” Mrs. Zabini said. “Right,” she worked herself up, “we’re clearly overdressed for this place, but let’s wake up the Weasleys. I hope they know the concept of tea around here, or coffee. Heaven helps them if they use the same water they give those chickens.”

They all walked towards the front door, Mrs. Zabini and Blaise looking around apprehensively while Harry bit his lip slightly. He hoped that Sirius was right, about Scabbers and everything, but he didn’t know how Ron or the others would react to it. When they’ve reached the door Mrs. Zabini let go of Blaise’s hand and knocked three rapid, hard knocks.

“My shoes are covered in dirt—Blaise’s are practically ruined I think,” she muttered to herself. She knocked again a little louder and looked up. “Are they deaf or just heavy sleepers?”

“Well Ron snores…”

“Not helping Harry—Hello!” Mrs. Zabini said knocking even louder.

They heard movement from inside the house and a familiar voice complaining, “Who would be bloody knocking on the door this time of night? On Christmas Eve no doubt! Hello—Oh Harry! What are you doing here?” Mrs. Weasley appeared behind the open door wearing a pink nightgown and slippers. Her hair was messy from sleeping, but her face and eyes brightened at the sight of Harry.

“Hello Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said politely. “Sorry for bothering you so late.”

“Why are you here Harry? And who is this—come in, come in, all of you, I’ll set about making some tea, or would you like some hot chocolate?” She asked, looking from Harry to Blaise.

“Tea would be nice for me, thank you,” Mrs. Zabini said. “Chocolate for the boys.” She motioned Harry and Blaise to go to the wooden table and sit down. “I’m guessing you’re Mrs. Weasley? I’m Delilah Zabini, my son Blaise here is a friend of Harry.”

“Oh, well nice to meet you both,” Mrs. Weasley said. “Sorry, don’t want to be rude… but why are you here?”

“To catch a rat,” Mrs. Zabini said shortly. “Though by the look of your house, I guess you’ve got a few.”

Mrs. Weasley’s face blushed from embarrassment. “No…really,” she said a bit shortly.

“Hmm. …Harry here told us that one of your sons has a rat as a pet? Shooter he calls it?” Mrs. Zabini asked.

“Scabbers,” Harry correctly.

“Right. Scabbers. Well, we need this rat for a while… don’t know if we’ll give him back though,” Mrs. Zabini said.

“Why would you need a rat?” Mrs. Weasley asked, setting two cups of hot chocolate in front of Harry and Blaise. Harry immediately took it and moved to drink from it before Mrs. Weasley stopped him. “Harry it’s hot, blow on it,” she said.

Harry did so and took a small sip, the hot liquid burning down his throat and into his cold body. Mrs. Zabini watched idly as she took out her wand and, with a lazy flick, cooled both of Harry’s and Blaise’s cups. “Look, Mrs. Weasley, I’m going to be quick since we’ve woke you up. That rat apparently isn’t a rat, and we just want to make sure of it.”

“What are you even talking about?” Mrs. Weasley asked. “Scabbers’s just an old rat.”

“How old?”

“I don’t know, he looked like an adult when we found him a few years ago… he is exceptionality old for a rat,” Mrs. Weasley said.

“Then very old,” Mrs. Zabini said. “Let me guess, you had the rat for five years give or take?”

“Give or take, yes,” Mrs. Weasley said a bit apprehensively. Her eyes shifted from Mrs. Zabini to Harry, who was happily drinking from his hot chocolate along with Blaise. “Harry… are you okay?”

“I am… but we really need Scabbers, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said, placing his mug down. “I’ll explain as soon as we get him. …Please?” He looked up at Mrs. Weasley, his eyes big and sleepy behind his glasses.

Mrs. Weasley stared at him for a while before saying, “Fine… wait here.” She left the room, and they listened as she went up the stairs. The three waited in silence, broken only be small sips by Harry and Blaise as they drank their drinks. Mrs. Zabini started to lightly drum her fingers on the table as she looked around, scoffing lightly at the Weasley’s possessions. “At least that clock looks nice,” she said, pointing to the Weasley’s clock which had all nine Weasley’s names on a separate handle.

The sound of footsteps filled the house a moment later and Mrs. Weasley returned with a groggy looking Mr. Weasley and Percy, who was holding Scabbers. “Alright Percy, give them Scabbers,” Mrs. Weasley said.

“But Mum, Scabber’s just a rat, he’s nothing but a rat this is really—”

“Percy, I swear just give the woman the rat so we can all go to bed,” Mrs. Weasley said, showing her true exhaustion for a moment. Percy gave her a nasty look as he moved closer to Mrs. Zabini.

Scabbers moved and squeaked rapidly, trying his best to claw his way out of Percy’s grip. Mrs. Zabini pulled a dress glove out of one of her pockets and slipped it on before taking the rat in a vice-like hold. She stared down at Scabbers, her eyes narrowing at the creature. “Rat or no, you better not tear my gloves,” she warned Scabbers. She examined the rat from every angle, looking at its tail, its whiskers, and stopping at its feet. “The rat’s missing a finger here,” she said.

“He always has, probably an accident or something,” Mrs. Weasley shrugged.

Mrs. Zabini made a small noise and said, “At least you smell clean, rat. If he really thinks you’re you, I’ll pay for damn mansion for him myself. … Right, we’ll be going now.”

“But my pet!” Percy said.

“Now hold on!” Mr. Weasley yawned.

“We’ll give him back in the morning if he’s not what Harry thinks he is,” Mrs. Zabini said. “I don’t know the spells, but he does. Come on boys, let’s go.” Mrs. Zabini stood to leave, Blaise following her.

Harry hesitated and looked at Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley, and Percy. “I’m sorry,” he said. “When I understand everything, I swear I’ll tell you all! But you have to believe me, okay?”

“Harry, that woman just took my pet,” Percy said.

“I know but… I don’t think he’s your pet,” Harry said. “I mean… I uh don’t think he’s a rat… well he is a rat, but he’s also not a rat… umm he’s a guy who can turn into a rat?”

“That’s a laugh,” Percy muttered.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand it, and my head is swimming and super tired but… did you get the presents I’ve sent you?” he asked.

“We did dear, and you really shouldn’t have,” Mrs. Weasley said. ‘But are you so sure you’re all right with that woman there? The boy seems nice but her… Arthur and I heard about her.”

“Mrs. Zabini? She’s good, I swear!” Harry smiled.

“Right,” Mrs. Weasley said, clearly disbelieving Harry. “Anyway, next time you come over please let it be when everyone is awake? And not for trying to take one of our animals?”

“I promise Mrs. Weasley, bye!” Harry smiled. He hugged Mrs. Weasley and shook Mr. Weasley’s hand before waving at an annoyed looking Percy.

“Harry! Why you still in there? Let’s leave before my clothes start smelling like pigs,” Mrs. Zabini’s voice yelling into the kitchen.

“Okay bye,” Harry said one more time before running out of the Burrow. Mrs. Zabini was already holding Blaise’s hand, who was holding a moving, squealing dress glove that looked to have something scrambling around in it.

“I’m going to have to throw out this pair before of that rat,” Mrs. Zabini muttered. “I don’t care if Sirius is right or wrong about this, he’s the one paying. Blaise, don’t you dare let go of that glove. …Give him another shake though.”

“Yes mother,” Blaise said, giving the glove a rough shake. Scabbers squeaked in shock as he tried desperately to claw out. “Mother’s gloves are made of dragon hide,” Blaise told Harry.

“Aren’t you being a little rough to him?” Harry frowned.

“What’s rough, is Narcissa sending us here while she’s playing peace keeper between her cousin and husband,” Mrs. Zabini said. “Now hold my hand and grip Blaise’s wrist. The sooner we leave, the better.”

Harry followed Mrs. Zabini’s direction and held Mrs. Zabini’s hand tightly, her wand stuck between their hands. He took Blaise’s wrist and squeezed as hard as he could. Blaise smiled at Harry and said, “The hot chocolate was good.”

Harry only had time to nod as Mrs. Zabini flicked their hands and the wand, all of them spinning on the spot and disappearing from the Burrow.


	12. Harry Ages

**The Twelfth Chapter**

**Harry Ages**

            “Here’s the damn rat,” Mrs. Zabini said. “Narcissa, I hope you understand the sacrifice I went through to get it.” Mrs. Zabini walked into the living room where Mrs. Malfoy was sitting in. Sirius Black was sitting on one side of the room freshly showered and dressed while Mr. Malfoy was nowhere to be found. “Where’s your husband?”

            “Locked himself in his office like a child,” Mrs. Malfoy sighed. “Anyway, let’s just get this over with, shall we? Harry, Blaise, Draco, this is adult business so go to your room.”

“But mother!”

No complaining boys, go,” Mrs. Malfoy said.

“Harry should stay,” Sirius said. “He has a right to the truth.”

“As his adopted mother, I’ll know what rights he has or not, and here I say that he will not be here while we… talk with Mr. Pettigrew, if he is in that squirming glove.”

“But Mum! I want to stay!” Harry said.

“No, I will not allow my son to be in the presence of a man like Pettigrew,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “Go to your rooms. Now!”

“No!”

Mrs. Malfoy snapped her fingers and house-elves appeared. The house-elves escorted Harry, Blaise, and Draco out of the room and up the stairs. The three boys complained and fought the entire way but as soon as they entered Draco’s room the door closed behind them and the elves disappeared. Harry ran to the door and tried to open it only to find that it was magically locked. “Not fair!” he growled, kicking the door. He sat down in front of it and crossed his arms, pouting. Draco and Blaise stared at Harry but once they realized that the boy won’t be moving, the two moved away from Harry as Blaise told Draco what happened at the Burrow. When Blaise was done with his story, the two stared at Harry for a while. The stubborn little boy did not move. He stayed sitting, his legs and arms crossed, his eyes squinting angrily behind his glasses. How dare Mrs. Malfoy not let him be with Sirius and her while they talked to that rat! He wanted to be there! He wanted to see the rat turn into a man and hear what he had to say! He heard raised voices from downstairs. Sirius was yelling, along with Mrs. Zabini and Mr. Malfoy. He couldn’t hear exactly what they were saying, but he thought he heard words that Charlie and Bill used that caused Mrs. Weasley to smack them on the outside of their heads.

He sat there for an hour or two, even after Draco and Blaise fell asleep on Draco’s bed. Sheer stubbornness kept the boy awake as he sat down, his head nodding every now and then but he stayed awake. The door opened only to reveal the figures of Mrs. Malfoy and Mrs. Zabini. Both of them looked down at Harry. “You should be asleep like your brother is,” Mrs. Malfoy said.

“I want to know what happened,” Harry pouted, still sitting.

Mrs. Malfoy sighed and shook her head. “Fine. I’ll tell you the short version and then you go to bed,” she said. “Get in the bed then.” Harry immediately stood up and climbed into the bed next to Draco and Blaise. “Right. Well Sirius was right in that the rat was Pettigrew. He made Pettigrew to shift back into his human form, there were… arguments, and now Pettigrew is at Azkaban. There you go, now goodnight.”

“But what happened? What did he do? What did you say? I heard a lot of yelling,” Harry said.

“I said go to bed after I tell you, and I told you, so goodnight,” Mrs. Malfoy said.

Harry glared at her but yawned deeply. Mrs. Malfoy sighed in an annoyed fashion and turned to Mrs. Zabini. “This night’s too bloody long. I’ll have the guest room made for you.”

“Thank you Narcissa, and you’re right, hopefully the morning’s better,” Mrs. Zabini sighed.

Even though he desperately didn’t want to, Harry fell asleep as the two women left the room. When morning came he woke up late, his glasses pressed to the side of his head as he turned in his sleep. When he was fully awake he ran downstairs to hear Mr. Malfoy and Sirius arguing. He saw Blaise and Draco standing by the doorway listening and joined them.

“I am not going back to that place, and I am not leaving without my godson!” Sirius yelled.

“He is not your godson, he is my son and you will leave this premise immediately,” Mr. Malfoy yelled back.

“Your son? I don’t give a bleeding fig about that Mal-face! He is James’s son first and my godson second! I go where he goes and he goes where I go—I have a bloody right!”

“A right that you gave up when you went to Azkaban,” Mr. Malfoy said.

“Under false charges!”

“I don’t care,” Mr. Malfoy scoffed. “You think I care or believe about your story Black? I don’t. So, let me be more explicit now than last night: get out, stay out of Harry’s life or I will have you back in Azkaban before the year is out!”

“You will do no such thing!” Sirius yelled. “You may have adopted Harry, but he is still my godson. I am not leaving without him!”

“Then you will leave with Aurors!”

“Stop it both of you!” Mrs. Zabini yelled. “Arguing on Christmas Day, your fathers would be beside themselves!”

“I hated my father,” Sirius said.

“Then James’s father would be beside himself,” Mrs. Zabini said. “Look you both woke the boys up so sit down the lot of you!” Mrs. Zabini pointed towards Harry, Draco, and Blaise who were still at the edge of the doorway. She motioned for the boys to come in, which they did silently. Mrs. Malfoy moved towards them and placed a hand on Harry’s and Draco’s shoulders as she ferried them into the room and towards a couch. “You two are supposed to be adults, so act like it,” Mrs. Zabini continued.

“I am acting like an adult, I am not leaving here without my godson,” Sirius said.

“Then it looks like you’ll won’t be leaving at all,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “Harry’s my son and he’s staying here.”

“Your son? Did you even ask him?” Sirius said.

“Yes and he agreed,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “Ask him again and he’ll say the same thing!”

“Harry, Harry look at me please,” Sirius said turning to the boy. “Your father would want you to be raised by someone who knew him, someone who loved him—I knew you since you were a baby, I was there when you were born. James wanted me to take care of you if something happened to him and Lily. I’m a free man now, I’ll be able to raise you like James would have wanted you to be raised… so what do you say Harry?”

Harry frowned and looked at Draco. “I… I don’t…I don’t want to leave Draco,” he said. “Or Blaise.”

“Are you sure?” Sirius asked. Harry nodded and Sirius sighed. “Well… looks like you’re right Narcissa… I’m not leaving.”

“Excuse me!” Mr. Malfoy said.

“If Harry will not be leaving here, neither will I,” Sirius said.

“I will not—”

“We will talk about it later, Lucius,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “Later. For now, let the boys eat breakfast and have a bath.”

“You will remember who is in charge of this house Narcissa,” Mr. Malfoy seethed. “I am. This is my family’s home, and I will not allow Black to vile this house.”

“And you will remember who I was before you married me, Lucius!” Mrs. Malfoy yelled. “Sirius is my cousin, and even if we hate each other, which we do, that doesn’t change anything. My cousin was found guiltless, and he is going to remain here where I can keep an eye on him. If you don’t like it, too bad. Now please go to the dining room, sit down, and eat your Christmas breakfast.”

Mr. Malfoy and Mrs. Malfoy glared at each other, a silent anger stewing between them before Mr. Malfoy turned his head and walked away towards the dining room. Mrs. Malfoy continued to stare at the place Mr. Malfoy was standing before turning to Harry and the others. Harry and Draco jumped off of the couch and ran to the dining room while Blaise went to his mother. Mrs. Malfoy stared at Sirius and silently motioned for him to get into the dining room too.

Breakfast was awkward. Mr. Malfoy refused to talk or even look at anyone. He kept his head down reading his paper as he ate. Mrs. Malfoy kept trying to include him in any conversation that Mrs. Zabini started, but he stubbornly refused. Harry felt too awkward to talk and only spoke one word answers or nodded to Sirius’s questions as he asked Harry and Draco about their lives at the manor. When dinner was over Mr. Malfoy returned to his office while the boys went into Harry’s and Draco’s bathroom to take a bath. Afterwards, the three boys opened their Christmas presents (Mrs. Zabini had her elves transport her and Blaise’s presents to the manor). The rest of the day continued in the same awkwardness. Mrs. Zabini and Blaise left after lunch leaving only the Malfoys and Sirius. Mrs. Malfoy gave Sirius the guest bedroom in the west wing of the manor which had its own private quarters and bathroom.

The same awkwardness hung in the air of Malfoy Manor for months after that Christmas Day. Even though there were various articles about Sirius’s new innocence, none of them bridged the bitter sentiment between him and Mr. Malfoy. Up until March the following year, Mr. Malfoy would refuse to even look at Sirius, simply pretending that the man didn’t exist. During this heated time, Mrs. Malfoy thought it would be best if Harry and Draco left the manor for a day, which they spent at the Weasleys’. Draco wasn’t disgusted by their home like Mrs. Zabini was, but was actually fascinated and followed Harry and Ron around looking at everything with wonder-filled eyes.

Life at the Malfoy’s have reached an uneasy normalcy after March. Mr. Malfoy looked at Sirius and muttered sarcastic or disrespectful responses to whatever Sirius talked about. Harry however was vary fascinated about Sirius’s tales, especially about his new job. Harry and Draco would sit around Sirius and listened to his stories and tales till it was time for the two young boys to go to bed where they would dream themselves in similar situations. The years started to come and go. Sirius and Mr. Malfoy still hated each other, there would be times where they’ve stayed away from each other, one or both of the men not appearing to eat dinner with the rest of the family for months at a time.

When they were both ten, Mrs. Malfoy noticed that Draco had trouble seeing. He kept squinting and turning his nose up that made his face look very unappealing like the face of a spoiled pauper. When she brought it up with her husband, Mr. Malfoy dismissed her concern. “Malfoys don’t need glasses,” he said. “We naturally have perfect vision.”

“Harry has glasses,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “I’m just telling you because tomorrow’s Harry’s eye appointment. I’ll be bringing Draco as well just so he could be looked at as well.”

“It will be a pointless thing,” Mr. Malfoy said. “He won’t be needing glasses.”

“Just keep believing that,” Mrs. Malfoy sighed.

The next day she left with Draco and Harry. Both boys grew tremendously over the five years. Draco was still a head taller than Harry, both lean and sprig-looking. Draco’s face was molding into that of a common Malfoy: silver-blond hair reaching his ears, gray eyes that was were constantly squinting, and a slightly prolonged nose. Harry, according to Sirius, was the spitting image of James knobby knees and all, except of course for his green eyes. The three arrived at the eye doctor’s five minutes before Harry’s appointment. Mrs. Malfoy went to talk with somebody while the boys were left to their own devices. Mrs. Malfoy came back two minutes later to tell Draco that he’ll have an appointment after Harry. Draco was annoyed, “I don’t need glasses, Mother,” he complained.

“We’re here and you’re having your eyes checked Draco,” she said. “You’ve been glaring at everything for the past month!”

“It’s not that long Draco,” Harry said. “They only take a couple of minutes.”

“Easy for you to say,” Draco sneered. “You had them since you were born.”

“I have not,” Harry said.

“Yes you did,” Draco said.

“You’re just scared,” Harry said. “Big Draco’s scared of wearing glasses!”

“Sod off!”

“Hey! You two will not talk to each other like that,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “Harry, the doctor’s ready for you so go on while I talk with your brother here.”

“Yes, mum,” Harry said, standing. He left to go to the back of the doctor’s office where a woman sat twirling a wand between her fingers. He walked out five minutes later with the woman who looked at Mrs. Malfoy and said, “His eyes are the same as last time. Not a good thing, but it’s not a bad thing either. He won’t need a new prescription, so his current pair will still do.”

“Thank you,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “This is Draco,” she said standing up with Draco.

“Hello, if you would follow me,” the doctor said. Draco threw a glare at Harry who was snickering as he walked by. The two walked into a small office filled with huge and odd-looking contraptions. There was a metal mask-looking thing with numerous lens that fitting onto each other, what looked like a gigantic telescope with a brace at the small end of it, and lastly a reclined chair with as many gadgets and whirling thingies that made Draco look slightly sick. “So, you’re Harry’s older brother?” the doctor asked as she pointed for Draco to sit down.

“Yeah,” Draco said. “He’s my adopted brother.”

“Uh-huh… and you’re both ten years old?” she asked as Draco sat down. She pressed the telescope against Draco’s face and sat in a wheeled stool and looked into the magnified end.

“Yes,” Draco said. “But my birthday’s in a week.”

“Oh, well happy birthday, when were you born?” the doctor asked, rolling away from the telescope to write something down.

“June 5th,” Draco said.

“More than a month before Harry,” the doctor said. “He’s July, right?”

“July 31st, yeah,” Draco said.

“I see…” the doctor said. She gave one last look into the telescope before pushing it away. “So, you two start Hogwarts in September, I take it. Must be exciting.” She took the metal mask and pushed it against Draco’s face. “You’ll tell me when the letters will be clear,” she said. She waved her wand and letters appeared hovering in the air.

The lens started filtering themselves, sliding in front of and out of Draco’s eyes, causing the words to become blurrier and blurrier before becoming clearer. “I can see them,” Draco said.

“Read them out please,” the doctor said.

“A, F, D, E, T, V,” Draco read out.

“And the smallest text you can see?” the doctor asked.

“T, D, G, Y, D, W, G,” Draco read.

“Very good,” the doctor said. She waved her wand and the letters disappeared. The steel mask’s lens continued to shuffle around. “So, Draco, do you and Harry have any idea what Houses you’ll be sorted into Hogwarts? I was a Hufflepuff myself. Very good at Charms I was.”

“I’m a Malfoy,” Draco said cockily. “I’ll be in Slytherin. With my brother.”

“…I see…” the doctor said. “Any subjects you looking forward to?”

“I’m really good at making potions,” Draco said as the lens continued to shift, his vision becoming clearer and clearer. “We have a lot of practice cauldrons at home.”

“Harry told me about those,” the eye doctor nodded as she wrote down something Draco couldn’t see. She pushed her chair from her desk and it wheeled towards the reclined chair. She gently pulled the steel mask away from Draco and pushed it aside. “Alright, sit back and let the chair do its thing. It’s going to measure your head to make sure we can get you glasses that’ll fit. So, sit tight while I talk with your mum.” She smiled and waved her wand.

The recliner started to vibrate under Draco. He sat back, his entire body resting against the recliner as strange instruments wrapped around his head—string measuring the distance from his eyes to his nose, a measuring tape strapping against his forehead and measuring its length; one going against the bridge of his nose, and another one measuring the length from his nose to his ear. This way and that measure tapes and strings dusted and tickled around his face, taking every kind of measurement as the quill and notepad the doctor was writing on wrote itself. The doctor came back a few minutes later with Mrs. Malfoy.

“…his eyesight is slightly damaged, not as bad as Harry, but still corrective lens will be needed. Nothing too thick, they’ll be quite slim actually, which is good because that means there’ll be much more variety available. It’s easier to make glasses with thin lens opposed to thick lens like Harry’s,” the eye doctor walked towards the notepad and looked at it. “Looking good,” she said. “Right, I think we’re all done here Draco. All that’s left is to pick a frame and we’ll have them ready in a few hours.”

Draco nodded. He got off of the recliner and left the office with his mother. The doctor showed them a selection of frames, all of which Draco sampled before deciding on horn-rimmed glasses. A few hours later Draco and Mrs. Malfoy returned to the eye-doctors to pick up his black horn-rimmed glasses. It felt weird for Draco to wear them, but for the first time in a while he could see clearly without squinting. He liked them. When they’ve returned to the manor, Sirius looked at him and smiled. “Looking good Draco,” he said. “Almost as dashing as Harry.”

“Thank you, Uncle Sirius,” he said. “Where’s father?”

“Moping around in his office I think,” Sirius said.

“To think that the Malfoy family has fallen to allow the phrase ‘moping around’ to be said in their home,” Mr. Malfoy said briskly. He walked into the room, a sour expression on his face as he stared at Sirius. “Black. It is nice to see you out of your pen.”

“The same can be said to you Lucius,” Sirius said.

Mr. Malfoy just sneered at him and turned his attention to Draco. “Life your head, let me look,” he said.

Draco did so, looking up at Mr. Malfoy through his glasses. Mr. Malfoy examined his face, turning his son’s head gently to the left and right. “At least they don’t make you look an utter fool,” he said. “Still… Narcissa, I do not like that you have done this behind my back. It seems that your… relative’s personality are rubbing off.”

“I like it,” Harry said popping out from behind Sirius. “I think Draco looks smart in them.”

“Smart?” Mr. Malfoy repeated.

“I like them too,” Draco said.

Mr. Malfoy just stared down at his son. “At least you don’t look like a fool,” he said again. He turned to his wife and said, “Narcissa, dear, I am still angry that you’ve brought him to even see the doctor in the first place. I’ve told you that Malfoys don’t need glasses—”

“Well both your sons do,” Mrs. Malfoy argued. “I will not allow you to talk to me like that, Lucius. Draco needed glasses before his vision gotten any worse. For all we know if we’ve continued to ignore his problem he’ll grow a permeant scowl! Besides he looks handsome with glasses, like Harry, so I do not see why you care so much—”

“Why I care? Maybe I should remind you, Narcissa, why I care. They will notice and talk about Draco’s changes, they will see a weakness in our reputation and try to strike against it. Our associate still gossip about your decision to allow that mutt live here and—”

“Hey!” Sirius yelled. “This isn’t something you should talk in front of children.”

“Leave us,” Mr. Malfoy said.

“Dad—”

“Go Harry!” Mr. Malfoy yelled. Harry jumped in shock.

“It’s alright Harry, I’ll come by later, okay?” Sirius whispered. Harry nodded and looked at his brother. He held out his hand, which Draco took, and they both walked out, Mr. Malfoy sneering.

Harry and Draco went to Draco’s room. The adults seemed to be arguing for hours. Harry and Draco could hear the three of them screaming and shouting at each other as the boys tried to busy themselves. Draco practiced his potion-making skills while Harry tried to block them out by reading. The moon was beginning to rise when Sirius knocked on the door. He entered and looked a little nervous. “Sorry you guys had to see that,” he said. “Seems like I’ve became a rude guest again.” He gave them both a little smile.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked.

“Me? Yeah I’m fine,” Sirius said. “Lucius isn’t though, your mum had a broom knock him outside his head,” he said looking at Draco. “Anyway, we’re all fine now. Your dad’s just having some time to himself in his office and Narcissa… well she’s talking with Delilah.”

“You sure everything’s okay?” Harry asked. “Dad seems mad for some reason.”

“Oh just normal straight guy problems,” Sirius said dismissively. “Got a figure of how things should be, and everyone out of it is total nonsense. Don’t worry yourselves about it.”

“Okay…” both boys said.

“Right!” Sirius said looking more cheerful. “Let’s put this messy business behind us and get some dinner, eh? Come on lads.”

Harry and Draco followed Sirius to the dining room where several house-elves already had their dinner served. The three sat down and Sirius looked at the two of them. “So, in a couple of months you two will be at Hogwarts. Exciting isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Harry said unenthusiastically.

“Don’t sound like that Harry! Why just thinking of you two reminds me of all the trouble your dad and I got to,” Sirius said with a small smile. “Before and after we got together, mind you. Anyway, you two will have a great time at Hogwarts. Great teachers there—Dumbledore notwithstanding.”

Sirius filled dinner with tales of his and Harry’s dad’s exploits in Hogwarts as the two boys ate their dinners in silence. Mrs. Malfoy and Mr. Malfoy both came in to eat half an hour later, during which Sirius finally got Draco and Harry to laugh at one of his stories. Mr. Malfoy was about to sneer something, but Mrs. Malfoy stopped him, both adults simply sitting down and silently joining dinner. A small silence filled the room during which time Mr. Malfoy spoke. “Boys, Hogwarts is beginning soon for both of you,” he said. “I hope I do not have to remind you both of how you two are supposed to present yourself.”

“No father,” Draco said meekly.

“Good,” Mr. Malfoy said. “Both of you are Malfoys, Harry, Draco. I hold the same expectations out of both of you. You have a family history to hold up.”

Harry and Draco shared a look. Harry bit his lip discreetly as Draco’s eyes shifted. Mr. Malfoy noticed none of this but Mrs. Malfoy have. She simply stared at her boys as Mr. Malfoy continued on a small triad of expectations and family honor. When dinner was done, both boys ran to Draco’s room before Mrs. Malfoy could talk to them. They did not talk about dinner, instead the two decided to distract themselves with a game of Exploding Snap. Mrs. Malfoy did not question the two on their strange looks during the dinner, but it seemed that whatever Mr. Malfoy said during his triad (the boys weren’t paying attention) caused a strained odd peace as all the adults focused on Harry’s and Draco’s impending Hogwarts letters.

 

Which arrived two weeks after Draco’s birthday. Two brown barn owls flew into the manor around mid-morning both holding letter addressed to Draco and Harry. The first read:

_Mr. H Potter-Malfoy_

_Malfoy Manor_

_Wiltshire, England_

The second:

_Mr. D. Malfoy_

_Malfoy Manor_

_Wiltshire, England_

“Potter-Malfoy!? Does Dumbledore dare to insult me!” Mr. Malfoy sneered. “I have half the mind to tear the letter up!”

“Don’t you dare!” Mrs. Malfoy said. “That is his last name unless you forgotten.”

“Yeah,” Sirius said with a grin. “When you adopted him, you allowed Harry to keep James’s last name, which is a very good thing you did.”

“Either way, it’s Harry’s decision on which last name he wants to use,” Mrs. Malfoy said. She turned to Harry and asked, “Harry? Are you angry that they’ve written down ‘Potter-Malfoy?’”

“No, I’m not,” Harry said. “It’s my last name right?”

“That it is,” Mrs. Malfoy nodded. “Isn’t that right, Lucius.”

“I suppose it is, Narcissa,” Mr. Malfoy said bitterly. He gave the letter to Harry who opened it alongside Draco with his. The pulled the two pieces of parchment out and read the letters.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter-Malfoy,

            We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

            Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

“Well no use delaying it now, is there?” Mrs. Malfoy asked. “Lucius and I will write our response and then we are off to Diagon Alley for school shopping. I’ll see if Mrs. Zabini and Blaise will join us.” And with that she was out of the room looking for parchment and floo powder.

Mr. Malfoy looked down at their letters and back at Harry and Draco. He said nothing but gave a single nod of approval before leaving. Sirius made sure that Mr. Malfoy was long gone before he drew both boys into a hug, congratulating them both. Mrs. Malfoy came back ten minutes later and said, “We’ll leave in ten minutes. Mrs. Zabini and Blaise are going to meet us at Diagon Alley in front of Ollivander’s. Are you coming, Lucius?” she turned to Mr. Malfoy as he walked in.

“No, I need to go to the Ministry today,” he said.

“And unfortunately, my job also calls me,” Sirius frowned. “I’ll see you two later, okay?”

“Bye Uncle Sirius,” Draco said as Sirius hugged them, one boy in one arm.

“Bye Sirius,” Harry said.

The two adult males left the dining room and Mrs. Malfoy turned to the boys. “Go get dressed then,” she commanded.

Harry and Draco ran up the stairs, both of them running into Harry’s room first. It was their tradition, their habit. Draco, being the more fashionable of the two, picked out the clothes that he wanted Harry to wear that day before going into his own room to get dressed himself. When they were both dressed, Harry took his two letters and unfolded the second piece of paper and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

  1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)
  2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
  3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
  4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)



COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

 _The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_ by Miranda Goshawk

 _A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot

 _Magical Theory_ by Adalbert Waffling

 _A Beginners’ Guide to Transfiguration_ by Emeric Switch

 _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ by Phyllida Spore

 _Magical Drafts and Potions_ by Arsenius Jigger

 _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ by Newt Scamander

 _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

Harry brought the piece of paper to Draco to see that he has the same thing. Both boys walked out of their corridor and into the main foyer where Mrs. Malfoy waited with Mrs. Zabini and Blaise. Blaise have grown tall during the years Harry known him. Towering both Draco and Harry, the dark-skinned Italian had a very handsome face with a small roman nose. When he saw Harry he made his way immediately to the small boy and pulled him into a hug. “Harry! So good to see you again,” he said as the two hugged. “How’s my husband?” he whispered, snickering at their childhood joke.

“Good,” Harry smiled. Blaise turned to Draco and they both gave each other a quick hug (not nearly as long as Blaise’s hug to Harry) and he smirked at Draco. “Looks like you’re getting used to your glasses,” he said.

“Yeah… well… I forget that I’m wearing them,” Draco said, his hand going to push the edge of his glasses closer to his face.

“Boys! Let’s go,” Mrs. Malfoy called. The three followed the two women to the nearest fireplace. Mrs. Malfoy gave Harry and Draco a handful of floo powder and traveled to Diagon Alley first where she waited for her two boys to show up, followed by Blaise and lastly Mrs. Zabini. They appeared in a pub called the Leaky Cauldron and without looking or talking to anybody, the five of them walked to a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds.

Mrs. Malfoy took out her wand and tapped the wall three times. The brick she touched quivered—it wriggled—in the middle, a small hole appeared—it grew wider and wider—a second later they were facing an archway large enough for them to walk through, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight. They stepped through the archway.

The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons—All Sizes—Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver—Self-Stirring—Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them.

“Keep up Harry,” Mrs. Malfoy called out. Harry looked to see her and Mrs. Zabini were walking ahead without him. He ran to catch up with them and almost immediately Draco and Blaise latched out to grab his hand. Harry looked a them both confused, but allowed them to hold his hands while the two boys shot glares at each other behind his back.

They visited Gringotts and gotten their money out of the vaults, Harry asked Mrs. Malfoy if he could use money from the Potter vault which she allowed, and they went to Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions first.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve. “Hogwarts, dears?” she said when Harry started to speak. “Got the lot here, go in the back and stand on the footstools then.”

They did so and Madam Malkin slipped three long black robes on them and began to pin Harry’s to the right length. Harry felt like he was swimming in his, wondering briefly if Madam Malkin gave him an adult’s size by mistake. Afterwards they went to Flourish and Blotts to buy the boys’ school books. Draco wanted to buy a golden cauldron but Mrs. Malfoy stopped him (“It says pewter Draco, not golden!”), but she did allow them to get a nice set of scales for weighing potion ingredients, clear crystal phials, and a collapsible telescope. They visited the Apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages, which were all not even close to the smells Draco’s potions makes when he practices. Even his failures smelled nice. Mrs. Malfoy and Mrs. Zabini talked to the man behind the counter for supplies of some basic potion ingredients for the boys while the three examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and minuscule, glittery-black beetles eyes (five Knuts a scoop).

“Our Apothecary has a better stock,” Draco said, trying to look impressive.

“We have a store like this?” Harry asked as he held Blaise’s hand, both boys looking around half-heartedly.

“Of course Harry,” Draco said smugly.

“Huh… look Blaise! Are those real frog eyes?”

“They are! That’s so gross,” Blaise said, looking slightly disgusted. Draco glared at the couple as they ignored his attempt to show off. His glare increased when Blaise said a joke that he couldn’t hear, but left Harry laughing like a loon and muttering something like “bull’s balls.”

“All that’s left are your wands,” Mrs. Zabini said, cutting off Harry’s laughter. “Come along you three.”

Harry and Blaise left together with Draco walking behind them, glaring slightly behind his glasses.

“Stop glaring,” Mrs. Malfoy whispered. “You have Harry every single day, let the two have their fun by themselves. You two are going to be surrounded by people who’ll want to know your brother because of who he is. We don’t need you glaring at him in jealousy during those times.”

“What am I supposed to do then, Mother?” Draco grumbled.

“Be his big brother Draco. Now take that glare away before I decided to keep you from Hogwarts,” Mrs. Malfoy said.

Draco looked as if he was about to argue but didn’t, instead keeping his glare to a minimum. “Why don’t you boys go into Ollivanders while Delilah and I pop into a store for a second?” Mrs. Malfoy said in front of the wand shop, which was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Making of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion on the dusty window.

“Okay mother,” Draco said. He moved so he was in front of Blaise and Harry and the three walked in while the two women walk towards a shop next door. A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that neither of the boys sat in. Harry felt strangely as though he had entered a very strict library; he swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to him and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

“Good afternoon,” said a soft voice. Harry jumped. An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons though the gloom of the shop.

“Hello,” Harry said awkwardly.

“Ah yes,” the man said. “Yes, yes, I thought I’d be seeing you soon. Harry Potter.” It wasn’t a question. “You have your mother’s eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work.”

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. Harry wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy.

“Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it—it’s really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course.”

“My wand will be the biggest,” Blaise whispered in Harry’s ear.

“Not necessarily, Blaise Zabini,” Mr. Ollivander said. He had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes. “And that’s where…”

Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry’s finger with a long, white finger. “I’m sorry to say I sold the wand that did it,” he said softly. “Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands…well, if I’d known what that wand was going out into the world to do. …”

He shook his head and then, to Harry’s relief, moved backwards. “You’ve been silent Draco Malfoy,” he said. “We’ll begin with you, I think.” He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. “Which is your wand arm?”

“Right,” Draco said holding it out. Mr. Ollivander measured Draco from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said, “Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Malfoy. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail features, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good result with another wizard’s wand.”

Harry watched and suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between Draco’s nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

“That will do,” he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. “Right then, Mr. Malfoy. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave.”

Draco took the wand, waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.

“Hawthorn and unicorn hair. Ten inches. Reasonably pliant.”

Draco waved it and green sparks shot from the end like a firework. Harry and Blaise whooped and clapped while Mr. Ollivander said, “Bravo! Very good. Not a tricky customer, are you Mr. Malfoy? No you know what you want and take it. Very good. Very good. Mr. Zabini, you’ll be next.”

He went through the same process with Blaise, who ended up getting a wand that was Ebony with a core of Dragon heartstring and thirteen inches long. Mr. Ollivander commented that it was “rather stiff” and lastly Harry.

Harry was tricky customer. He tried. And tried. He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

“Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we’ll find the perfect match here somewhere—I wonder, now—yes, why not—unusual combination—holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple.”

Harry took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Mr. Ollivander cried, “Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well …how curious …how very curious …”

He put Harry’s wand back into the box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, “Curious… curious…”

“Sorry,” Harry said, “but what’s curious?”

Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare.

“I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather—just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother—why, its brother gave you that scar.”

Harry swallowed.

“Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember. …I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter. …After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things—terrible, yes, but great.”

Harry shivered. He wasn’t sure he liked Mr. Ollivander too much. He paid seven Galleons for his wand, and Mr. Ollivander bowed them from his shop.

 

Mrs. Malfoy and Mrs. Zabini waited outside both holding cages of owls. Mrs. Malfoy gave Harry a large cage with a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. Mrs. Malfoy and Mrs. Zabini made sure that they had everything together before they walked away from Diagon Alley, school supplies in hand and thoughts turned to Hogwarts as September slowly comes.


	13. Harry Potter-Malfoy Enters Hogwarts

**The Thirteenth Chapter**

**Harry Potter-Malfoy Enters Hogwarts**

            A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven o’clock. Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks. The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. Harry pushed his cart down the platform in search of an empty seat. He couldn’t believe it: He and Draco were finally going to Hogwarts.

“Harry, come back here,” Mrs. Malfoy called out. Harry stopped and turned to see his adoptive parents and Sirius standing by Draco. Mr. Malfoy and Sirius agreed to end their fighting in only for today. Harry pushed his cart back towards them, but kept his eyes on the train.

“Harry, Draco,” Mr. Malfoy said, sounding important. “Study well and behave yourselves. I’ll see you both during the holidays.”

Harry couldn’t help but feel sort of detached from the way Mr. Malfoy talked to them. It was as if they were heading to a business meeting rather than leaving to Hogwarts! He couldn’t help but feel hurt and wonder where the love Mr. Malfoy used to give him and Draco. Mrs. Malfoy, thankfully, was much warmer than Mr. Malfoy. She pulled both boys in for a hug, and kissed their cheeks. “Be good boys,” she said. “And write often. Anything you missed, I’ll send it by owl.”

“Goodbye mother,” Draco muttered.

“Goodbye Mum,” Harry muttered.

Lastly it was Sirius’s turn. It looked as if he was on the brink of tears. “Boys! Come here!” he said pulling the two into a tight hug. “Ohh I’m going to miss you both. It’s going to be so boring without you guys. Stay safe, have fun, and Harry? Don’t get into too much trouble, but cause a little. For your dad’s sake.”

Harry laughed while Sirius grinned.

“I’ll miss you, Uncle Sirius,” Draco said.

“Goodbye Da—Sirius,” Harry said. Sirius smiled and ruffled both their heads before helping them lift their luggage onto the train. He hugged them both one last time before the boys stepped into the train.

The two found an empty compartment and sat down. Harry grinned at Draco. “We’re going,” he said.

“I know,” Draco said an equal grin on his face. The two brothers jumped and hugged each other, resting their heads on each other’s shoulders. The train buckled and started to leave the station. The two moved apart as the compartment door opened.

“Draco! There you are,” a female voice said. Harry turned and glared at the girl. She was standing with Crabbe and Goyle, who grew into wide-looking boys, as well as Daphne Greengrass whom Harry didn’t see since he was seven. “This is a nice compartment you found for us Draco,” Parkinson said as she walked in, the two brutes and Greengrass entered.

“Sod off,” Harry said (he learned that phrase from Sirius). “This is our compartment!”

“Potter? You’re still here,” Parkinson sneered. Harry never saw her since that one Christmas party years ago when he was five. Ever since she went crying off, the Parkinsons refused any invitations that the Malfoys sent them. It seemed to Harry that the girl held her anger and it grew.

Still, that didn’t mean anything to Harry since he didn’t care. “Yes I am… Parkinson,” Harry said. “I’m sorry but I had to take a moment to remember your name, unfortunately the most memorable thing about you is that pug nose and doggish voice.”

“I—argh!” Parkinson yelled. She turned to Crabbe and Goyle and glared at them. The two brutes jumped and then before Draco or Harry could react, grabbed Harry roughly by his arms and threw him out of the compartment door and slammed it shut.

“Hey! Hey! Open the damn door!” Harry cursed and scream, his fist banging. Inside he could hear Draco yelling his head off. Harry pulled the compartment door but it wouldn’t move an inch. One of the two wide boys must be holding it shut. “Open up you two crap-filled trolls!” Harry yelled.

“Harry Malfoy cursing? I never thought I’d see the day,” A voice said behind Harry. The boy spun on the spot to see a tall broad thirteen-year-old smirking down at him. His head was squarish, and his teeth were a bit crooked but nevertheless it was a friendly face, at least to Harry. “Marcus!” Harry breathed.

He pointed to the compartment door and began to explain what just happened. Flint just smirked and patted Harry’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I got you.” Harry moved out of the way and Flint grabbed the compartment door. His muscles in his arm flexed and he pulled the compartment door violently, yelling “Right you lot!”

Harry peaked into the compartment door. Crabbe, Goyle, and Greengrass were sitting looking more than guilty as Draco glared at them all. Parkinson looked mad. “Out,” Draco said and the three ran out the compartment door. Draco glared at Parkinson who left with her nose in the air.

Draco looked at the opened compartment door and opened his arms for Harry who ran inside. “Don’t you two look cute together,” Flint drawled, a smirk playing his lips. “If that’s all the service you require Harry, I’ll see you later.” He closed the compartment door and the two sat down again, Draco holding Harry possessively.

The door opened a third time and Draco glared at it as Ron Weasley poked his head in. “Can—Harry!” he smiled.

“Ron!” Harry said. Draco allowed him to get up and hug the redhead. Ron hugged him back and looked at Draco over Harry’s shoulder. “Hello Draco,” he said.

“Hello,” Draco said.

“Umm… can I sit here? Everyone else was full,” Ron said.

“Of course,” Harry said moving back to his seat next to Draco. Ron moved to sit down opposite of them as Blaise came in and sat down. “Hi guys,” he said. “Been looking for you two. I—oh hello.”

“Oh right,” Harry said. “Ron, this is my friend Blaise, Blaise, this is Ron.”

They exchanged hellos and Harry looked around. He couldn’t help but laugh causing odd looks from the three other boys. “Harry what’s the matter?” Blaise asked.

Harry continued to laugh and shake his head. His laughter died down and he looked around, “It’s just… I think this is the first time all three of my husbands are in the same room,” he said. “You guys remembered?”

Ron stared at him for a minute. “Oh yeah! That means you’re married to me right?”

“And me!” Blaise chimed in.

“Harry is mine,” Draco said possessively, glaring at the two.

Harry laughed and shook his head. “I’m all of yours,” he said. And to prove it he stood up and, shocking all of the boys, kissed them on their lips. Draco’s was first, followed by Blaise and lastly Ron. He kissed them chastely and childishly, it didn’t even last a second. But it had his desired results. Draco’s glare lessened while Blaise just smiled confidently. Ron’s face blazed up and a goofy look on his face appeared. “I got kissed,” he said “My first kiss… before Fred and George! Oh, they’ll be jealous when I tell them—can we do it again?”

Harry laughed and shook his head. “Later, Ron,” he said.

“Because any more kisses he’ll be giving to me,” Draco said. He pulled Harry down and kissed his cheek.

“Hey, don’t let me out!” both Blaise and Ron called out. They both moved forward and the next second, Harry had the three of them leaving quick childish over-the-top kisses all over his face. A large grin spread across his face and he started to laugh. The other three joined in and just like that any tension that would have developed between them evaporated. The four boys relaxed in their seats and Harry looked outside the window.

The train had carried them out of London. Now they were speeding past fields of cows and sheep. They were quiet for a time, watching the field and lanes flick past. Around half past twelve there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling dimpled woman slid back their door and said, “Anything off the cart, dear?”

Ron’s ears went pink, muttering something about sandwiches, but Draco and Harry went out into the corridor. There were Bertie’s Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, Droobie’s Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, and a number of other candies that Harry and Draco barely had in their lives. Mrs. Malfoy kept them both on a strict diet and barely allowed either of them to eat any sweets. Not wanting to waste the opportunity, they got some of everything paying the woman eleven silver Sickles and seven bronze Knuts.

Ron stared as Harry and Draco brought it all back in to the compartment and tipped it onto an empty seat.

“Hungry, are you?”

“Starving,” Harry said, taking a large bite out of a pumpkin pasty. Ron had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four sandwiches inside. He pulled one of them apart and said, “She always forgets I don’t like corned beef.”

“Swap you,” Harry said, holding up a pastry. “Go on, before Draco and I eat them all.”

“You don’t want this, it’s all dry,” Ron said. “She hasn’t got much time,” he added quickly, “you know, with five of us.”

“Just eat a pastry already Weasley,” Draco said. “You too Zabini!” He and Harry sat down as the two other boys started eating. It was a nice feeling for Harry, sharing with his three best friends as the four of them ate their way through all of Harry and Draco’s pasties, cakes, and candies (the sandwiches lay forgotten).

Harry picked up a Chocolate Frog and he and Draco stared at them. They never had a Chocolate Frog before. Harry unwrapped his Chocolate Frog and Draco held the frog before it jumped out. They both looked at the card inside. “I’ve got Dumbledore,” Harry said, staring at the man’s face. Harry turned over his card and read:

Albus Dumbledore

Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon’s blod, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling.

Harry turned the card back over and saw, to his astonishment, that Dumbledore’s face had disappeared. “He’s gone!”

“Well, you can’t expect him to hang around all day, can you?” Ron said. “No, I’ve got Morgana again and I’ve got about six of her… do you want it? You can start collecting.”

Ron’s eyes strayed to the pile of Chocolate Frogs waiting to be unwrapped.

“Help yourself,” Draco said, biting off the chocolate frog’s head and giving the butt to Harry.

Harry glared at him but ate the piece of candy in one bite. The boys were all more interested in eating the frogs than looking at the Famous Witches and Wizards cards. When they were gone, the Malfoys moved onto to a bag of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, which Harry stared at hesitantly.

“They mean every flavor, right?” Harry asked.

“Yes they do Harry,” Blaise said. “Every. Single. Flavor. One time I had those two Crabbe and Goyle at my home, their parents had business with mother, and they ate through two bags of the beans! Nasty flavors and all!”

The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills. The four of them ate through the bag of Every Flavor Beans, Harry getting toast, coconut, baked bean, strawberry, grass, coffee, sardine, and curry.

There was a knock on the door and a round-faced boy came in. He looked terrified.

“Sorry,” he said, “but have you seen a toad at all?”

When they all shook their heads, he wailed, “I’ve lost him! He keeps getting away from me!”

“He’ll turn up,” Harry said.

“Yes,” the miserable boy said. “Well, if you see him …”

He left.

“I don’t know why he bothered,” Draco said as he fixed his glasses on his face which somehow lopsided slightly. “A toad is a disgusting pet. Father and Mother would sooner have our butts red before we even touch a toad.”

Harry nodded in agreement. The train continued on and the boys changed. “What are your older brothers doing?” Harry asked.

“Charlie’s in Romania studying dragons, and Bill’s in Africa doing something for Gringotts,” Ron said. “Did you hear about Gringotts? It’s been all over the Daily Prophet, someone tried to rob a high security vault.”

“Really!” Harry and Draco both gasped. “What happened?”

“Nothing, that’s why it’s such big news. They haven’t been caught. My dad says it must’ve been a powerful Dark wizard to get round Gringotts, but they don’t think they took anything, that’s what’s odd. ‘Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who’s behind it.”

Harry turned this new over in his mind. He still remembered that Voldemort was his grandfather. He couldn’t help but wonder if the Dark Wizard knows this. If not… why not… and what would happen if…

“What’s your Quidditch team?” Ron asked Blaise.

“Falmouth Falcons,” Blaise said.

The boys spent the rest of the train ride talking Quidditch. Before they knew it, a voice echoed through the train: “We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes’ time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately.”

Harry’s stomach lurched with nerves and Ron, he saw, looked pale under his freckles. Somehow Draco and Blaise looked calm. “Need a kiss to calm you down?” Draco smirked.

Harry glared at him but shrugged his shoulders. Draco took that as a yes and kissed Harry again, which only got Ron and Blaise jealous so Harry had to kiss them both as well. When Harry was done kissing everyone they joined the crowded corridor.

The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Harry shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Harry heard a voice yelling, “Firs’ years! Firs’ years over here!”

A large man with a big hairy face was standing by the side and beamed at the sea of heads. “C’mon, follow me—any more firs’ years? Mind yer step, now! Firs’ years follow me!”

Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Harry thought there must be thick trees there. Once or twice Draco fixed and cleaned his glasses just to make sure that they weren’t playing any tricks on him. Nobody spoke much.

“Yeh’ll get yer firs’ sight o’ Hogwarts in a sec,” Hagrid called over his shoulder, ‘jus’ round this bend here.”

There was a loud “Oooooh!”

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

“No more’n four to a boat!” Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. The four boys got into one boat, Ron, Draco, and Blaise sitting questionably close to Harry, Ron having a dorky smile on his face.

“No more kisses!” Harry hissed. The fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

They entered a wide opening in the cliff face hidden by a curtain of ivy. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto the rocks and pebbles, Draco and Blaise helping Harry out of the boat, Ron keeping his balance when Harry faltered slightly.

Harry wondered briefly if they’re being extra nice to him because they want more kisses. They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door. “Everyone here?” Hagrid asked. He raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Harry’s first thought was that this was not someone to cross.

“The firs’ years, Professor McGonagall,” Hagrid said.

“Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.” She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit half of Malfoy Manor’s first floor. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harry could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right—the rest of the school must already be here—but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the tall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering around nervously. Ron, Blaise, and Draco stood extra close to Harry like a protective barrier made by the tall eleven year olds. _They really must want another kiss,_ Harry thought to himself, he would be lying if he told them he didn’t want another one.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” Professor McGonagall said. “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be like your family. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

“The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn you house points while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

“The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.”

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville’s cloak, which was fastened under his left ear. Harry nervously tried to flatten his hair while Draco fidgeted with his glasses.

“I shall return when we are ready for you,” Professor McGonagall said. “Please wait quietly. Harry Potter-Malfoy, if you would follow me?”

Harry’s heart sank. Why would she want to talk to him? Are they kicking him out of the school already? With nervous, twitch legs he followed the witch outside of the chamber. “I would like to make one thing clear,” Professor McGonagall said. “You legally have both the Potter surname as well as Malfoy, I would like to know which one you use during your class time.”

“Umm my full name is Potter-Malfoy, but I use Malfoy mostly,” Harry admitted.

“I see… thank you very much Mr. Potter-Malfoy, you may return to the chamber until we are ready,” Professor McGonagall said.

Harry nodded and, still very nervous, returned to the room.

“What did she want?” Draco whispered as soon as he got in.

“Which last name I use,” Harry said.

“Which last name?” Ron asked, confused.

Harry nodded. “My full last name is Potter-Malfoy but there are times when I just use Potter or just use Malfoy,” he explained.

“Oooohhh,” Ron said, nodding his head.

Professor McGonagall came back a moment later. “We are ready for you now, form a line.”

Draco made sure that he was directly in front of Harry as Blaise and Ron stayed behind. They walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall let the first years up there, so that they came to a hall in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Harry looked up and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He heard a girl whispered, “It’s bewitched to look like the sky outside. I’ve read about in _Hogwarts: A History_.”

Harry looked and saw Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard’s hat. The hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. “That’s going on my head?” Draco whispered in disgust.

Harry noticed that everyone at the hall seemed to turned from staring at the first years to staring at the hat. He stared at it too. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth—and the hat began to sing:

 _Oh you may not think I'm pretty,_  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.  
  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.  
  
There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be.  
  
You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry  
Set Gryffindors apart;  
  
You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
And unafraid of toil;  
  
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
if you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;  
  
Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folks use any means  
To achieve their ends.  
  
So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
For I'm a Thinking Cap!

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. Draco glanced back at Harry, who shrugged. This was not what either boy were expecting. Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment. “When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted,” she said. “Abbott, Hannah!”

A pink-faced girl with blonde hair stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment’s pause—

“HUFFLEPUFF!” the hat shouted.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. And so it went on, Professor McGonagall calling out the student’s names, the student walked over to the hat, and the hat shouting out their house. Soon it was Draco’s turn. He swaggered forward and the hat barely touched his head when it screamed, “SLYTHERIN!”

Draco went to the Slytherin table looking pleased of himself. Harry bit his lip as his nerves started to grow. There weren’t many people left now.

“Moon” …”Nott”… “Parkinson”… Harry glared at her as she tried to sit next to Draco. “Patil”… “Patil,” a pair of twins, “Perks, Sally-Anne” … and then, at last—

“Potter-Malfoy, Harry!”

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall. The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat.

“Hmm,” said a small voice inside his ear. “Difficult, very difficult. Plenty of courage I see. Not a bad mind either. There’s talent, yes, and a thirst to prove yourself. But where to put you?”

Harry gripped the edges of the stool and thought, _Please Slytherin. Please Slytherin._

“Slytherin, eh?” said the small voice. “I can see… you can be great you know, it’s all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on your way to greatness, no doubt about that. Well? If you’re sure… better be GRYFFINDOR!”

Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. He took off the hat and stared blankly. No, no this can’t be right! He can’t be separated from Draco! No! He started his way shakily towards the Gryffindor table, his eyes staring at his brother. Draco looked completely shocked like Harry, and a little angry. Behind his glasses, his silver eyes shook with an unspeakable anger not at Harry, but at the hat. Harry barely noticed that he got the loudest applause. Percy Weasley got up and shook his hand vigorously, which the Weasley twins yelled, “We got Potter! We got Malfoy! We got Potter-Malfoy!” Harry sat down.

And now there were only three people left to be sorted. “Thomas, Dean,” a Black boy even taller than Ron got sorted into Gryffindor. Ron looked green as his name was called. Harry closed his eyes and crossed his fingers and a second later the hat shouted, “GRYFFINDOR!”

At least Ron was with him. Ron joined him at the Gryffindor table and they both looked at the Slytherin. “He looks sadder then you do,” Ron said.

Harry nodded. “We’re brothers… we really are even though I’m adopted. I’m a Malfoy! I should be at the Slytherin table right? I should be with Draco—oh god what is my father going to say? He already hates everything I do—”

“Hey, hey calm down Harry,” Ron said. “Who cares what Mr. Malfoy is going to say? What is he going to do? Send Howlers? You can just ignore them… mostly. Besides, I’m sure Draco doesn’t hate you now.”

“Draco hates me? No, no never. He’s not that shallow,” Harry said shaking his head. He looked back at the Slytherin table to see that Blaise has joined Draco there. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away. Harry looked down at his empty plate, suddenly realizing how hungry he was. Dumbledore stood up to say some words that Harry didn’t pay attention to, he was still shocked at his sorting, and food appeared on the golden plates.

He and Ron piled their plates with as much food as they could fit and began to eat. It was delicious.

“Look at it this way,” Ron said in between mouthfuls. “At least we’ll have classes together. With Draco, I mean.”

“I guess,” Harry said nodding. The thought of seeing Draco during class did relieve Harry a bit and he was able to enjoy some of the food he ate. When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, having them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate eclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding …

As Harry helped himself to a treacle tart, the talk turned to their families.

“I’m half-and-half,” Seamus said. “Me dad’s a Muggle. Mum’s a witch. Bit of a nasty shock for him when he found out.”

The others laughed.

“What about you, Neville?” Ron asked.

Harry zoned out a bit as Neville, the round-headed boy who was looking for his toad, talked. He kept gazing at the Slytherin table. Draco and Blaise were talking to another boy and some older years. Blaise was laughing but Draco kept glancing over at Harry. They gave sad sort of looks at each other. Harry’s gaze turned towards the staff table. Hagrid was drinking deeply from a goblet. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore. A man in an absurd turban walk talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin. Harry really thought that he needed a long bath just looking at the man.

It happened very suddenly. The hook-nosed teacher looked past the other professor’s turban straight into Harry’s eyes—and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Harry’s forehead.

“Ouch!” Harry clapped a hand to his head.

“What’s the matter?” Ron asked.

“Nothing,” Harry said. The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off was the feeling Harry had gotten from the teacher’s look—a feeling that he didn’t like Harry at all.

“Need a kiss to make you feel better?” Ron asked, the same goofy grin on his face. Harry laughed and shook his head. He turned to Percy and asked, “Who’s that?” as he pointed to the hook-nosed man.

“That’s Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn’t want to—everyone knows he’s after Quirrell’s job, Defense Against the Dark Arts. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape.”

Harry watched Snape for a while, but Snape didn’t look at him again.

The desserts too disappeared at last and Dumbledore got to his feet. Harry noticed that Ron moved closer to him as Dumbledore started to speak. “First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well. I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for the house teams should contact Madame Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death.”

Harry and Ron glanced nervous looks. “He’s not serious is he?” Ron asked.

“Must be,” Percy said.

“And now, it is time for bed. Tomorrow is a day full of learning so good night everyone and pleasant dreams. Pip pip!”

The Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Harry’s legs were like lead, but only because he was so tired and full of food. They climbed more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet, and Harry was just wondering how much farther they had to go when they came to a sudden halt. Harry and Ron shared a yawn.

“If I fall asleep just wake me up with kisses,” Ron yawned to Harry.

“You’re... really addicted to kisses now, aren’t you?” Harry yawned and laughed at the same time which resulted in a strange inhuman noise.

“So are Draco and Blaise!”

“I guess,” Harry shrugged. He didn’t want to tell Ron that he too was getting a bit addicted to their kisses. He looked to see that they were standing at the end of a corridor in front of a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

“Password?” she said.

“Caput Draconis,” Percy said, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. Harry unconsciously smiled when he heard his brother’s name. He stepped through the hole and into the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs.

Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitories and the boys through another. At the top of a spiral staircase—they were obviously in one of the towers—they found their beds at last: five four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. Too tired to talk much, they pulled on their pajamas and fell into bed. Harry sighed and rolled off his bed and walked to Ron’s. “One more, then that’s it until Draco and Blaise gets one,” he said kissing Ron in the same childish peck.

The goofy grin came on Ron’s sleepy face and he yawned. “Can’t wait to tell Fred and George… I got kissed three times before they even got kissed once! …Night Harry.”

“Night Ron,” Harry said. He crawled into his own bed and his thoughts shifted to Draco as he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: All of the kissing! Why is Harry kissing so many guys? Well because they’re eleven and don’t understand the concept of dating or any romantic feelings. It’s just fun to them as they mimic adult relationships.


	14. First Week of Classes

**The Fourteenth Chapter**

**First Week of Classes**

“There, look.”

“Where?”

“Next to the tall kid with the red hair.”

“Wearing the glasses?”

“Did you see his face?”

“Did you see his scar?”

Whispers followed Harry from the moment he left his dormitory the next day. He sat down at the Gryffindor Table looking longingly at Slytherin during breakfast. Draco was there, his glasses slightly down his nose as he stared longingly at Harry. There was a storm of feathers and Harry looked up to see owls of every shade and shape filling the ceiling of the Great Hall, bringing the occupants letters from home as well as their subscription of the _Daily Prophet_. One of the Malfoy eagle owls flew towards Harry and dropped a red envelope in front of it. Harry’s heart sank and the people sitting near him looked frightened as they moved as far as they could from Harry.

His hand trembled as he reached for the letter. His finger barely touched it when the letter exploded, the red enveloped seemingly turned into a mouth with the white paper inside barring a striking resemblance to teeth. Mr. Malfoy’s voice boomed in the Great Hall:

_HARRY MALFOY!_

_I AM SORELY DISAPPOINTED IN YOU! NOT ONLY DID YOU RUIN THE MALFOY NAME BY FAILING TO BEING SORTED IN SLYTHERIN, BUT YOU DARE TO INSULT ME AND YOUR FAMILY BY BEING SORTED IN GRYFFINDOR! I THOUGHT THAT I’VE SMACKED THAT REBELLIOUS FOOLHARDY ATTITIUDE THAT YOU INHERITED FROM YOUR ANNOYANCE OF A FATHER BUT I GUESS I WAS WRONG! YOU’VE BROUGHT SHAME TO MY FAMILY AS WELL AS ONTO YOURSELF!_

_IF YOU TRY TO CONTINUE YOUR IDIOTIC REBELLION AGAINST ME, I’LL HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO CORRECT YOU MYSELF! I WILL NOT HAVE A GRYFFINDOR IN THE MALFOY FAMILY, DO YOU HEAR ME HARRY? ALL THOSE YEARS RAISING YOU TO BE A PROPER MALFOY WASTED BY THIS STUPID SORTING! WHAT DID YOU DO, BOY? DID YOU BEG THE HAT TO SORT YOU INTO GRYFFINDOR? DID YOU THINK THAT IT WOULD BE FUNNY TO INSULT ME, YOUR FATHER, AND TRY TO BE LIKE THOSE CORPSES THAT GAVE BIRTH TO YOU?_

_YOU WILL APPOLOGIZE AT ONCE FOR THIS INEXCUSABLE MANNER OR ELSE I WILL HAVE NO CHOICE BUT REMOVE YOU FROM THE FAMILY!_

The letter ripped itself up and burned into flames, leaving a small pile of ash in front of Harry. The hall was absolutely silent. Nobody knew how to respond to this: Not once in Hogwarts history did a parent send a Howler because of the Sorting Ceremony. The Gryffindors near Harry looked at the small boy apprehensively. Harry was staring at the small pile of ash. His body was shaking, he seemed to be hyperventilating, his small mouth open as he tried to breath, tears already staining his cheeks, his glasses in disarray. He felt small, small and trapped. He had to get away. He pushed roughly from the table, falling onto the floor. He scrambled to his feet, and in the same strange silence the entire student body watched as Harry ran out of the hall, crying. Followed swiftly by Draco Malfoy.

Professor McGonagall looked at the Headmaster. “This is too much,” she said. “To think that Mr. Malfoy would act so… heinous to his own child!”

“You are correct Minerva,” Headmaster Dumbledore said with a serious frown. “We shall contact him at once.”

“At once? I’ve have half a mind to send him a howler myself!” Professor McGonagall said.

Professor Dumbledore nodded, “The feeling is mutual, Minerva, but first we much check on young Harry. I’ve done a heinous act to him as well years ago, I believe it is time to repent.”

 

Harry didn’t know which way he was running, he just wanted to be away from the castle. The boy ran down a sloping green hill towards a tall forest. On the outskirts of the forest was a little hut with a smoking chimney. Harry ran down, crying all the way, until he slipped and skidded down the rest of the hill, which he stayed. Draco caught up with him and immediately wrapped his arms around his little brother. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” Draco soothed. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

“I-I hate him,” Harry cried. “He—he said—he”

“It’s okay Harry… you don’t need to repeat it,” Draco hushed. Harry moved himself so he could bury himself into Draco’s chest and continue to cry. The blonde looked down at his brother, both feeling so heartbroken and furious at Mr. Malfoy.

Harry held onto Draco’s robes, crying and staining Draco’s shirt as his tear-filled cheek, which had several rivers of tears, rubbed against it. Draco didn’t care in that moment. All he needed, and all he wanted, was to have Harry in his arms; to make sure that the short raven-haired boy with the knobby knees that he loved was alright, and not emotionally damaged from their father’s awful howler. They sat there, Harry crying into Draco’s chest, and Draco holding his brother.

“Oi! You lot! Why aren’t you in yer classes?” a voice boomed at them. They both looked to see Hagrid, the groundskeeper, come running up to them. “Oh, Harry, ‘ello,” he smiled. “Cor, your cheeks are red… come in, come in both of you. Looks like yer can use a cuppa’ tea.”

Draco and Harry followed Hagrid into his small hut. There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it. An enormous black boarhound was sleeping on it.

“Get up, Fang, you lazy dog,” Hagrid said as he threw a piece of pheasant at the hound. It yawned and sleepily nibbled on it. “Right, sit down, and I’ll get you both yer tea,” he said to Harry and Draco. The tea was boiling but Harry and Draco pretended to enjoyed it was they told Hagrid what happened in the Great Hall.

“Christ,” Hagrid sighed after Harry finished his tale. For some reason speaking to the giant man was cathartic for him. “’t’s a horrible thing to do to yer child. Sendin’ a howler on the first day? And something so simple for a sortin’? Well pay him no mind Harry, yer seem like a good kid. An’ that’s all that matters.”

“I guess… it’s just… it’s been like this for a while now,” Harry said. “Him being this strict with me. I just don’t know how to handle it.”

“Tell yer what,” Hagrid said. “You forget about Mr. Malfoy, yeh hear me? Go have your first week at Hogwarts, and come back ter me and tell me about it, eh? You too Draco. We’ll have tea and biscuits! That’ll get yer mind off of this mess.”

“Thank you Hagrid,” Harry smiled.

“Not at all, now go ter class before you both get in trouble, eh?” Hagrid said. They smiled, said their goodbyes, and left the little hut.

Draco stopped Harry about halfway up the hill. “Harry, wait,” he said.

Harry turned to him, and Draco kissed him. It wasn’t a simple kiss that Harry always gave, but a meaningful, loving kiss. Their lips pressed together, molded perfectly for each other, and they wrapped their arms around the other. They stood there, kissing, their lips still as they tried to convey as much emotion and love as they could. They stood there for a minute or two before Draco pulled away. “Whenever you need me, go down the dungeon. It’s a long corridor, you’re going to turn left and walk to the end of it. Where the corridor ends just say ‘Dragon’s Tongue.’ That is the password to the Slytherin Common room. I’ll be waiting there whenever you need me, as well as Blaise. Okay?”

“Okay Draco,” Harry nodded. “And thank you…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Draco said. He kissed Harry again. “You’re going to be my husband. I have to take care of you.” Harry smiled and kissed Draco again, his hand slipping into Draco’s, and they walked back to the castle.

Dumbledore was waiting for them in the entrance hall. “Mr. and Mr. Malfoy, I was wondering if I could have a word with you,” he smiled. “It seems that apologies are in order from me to you, Harry. When you were young, I’ve done a horrible thing all for sake of your happiness, but in the end, it seemed that I had nothing to worry about.”

“What do you mean, sir?” Draco asked.

“I wanted Harry to live in a loving family, for reasons that I unfortunately cannot disclose to either of you today. But it seems that I was wrong. Not only did you find in the Malfoys, a loving brother in the form of Draco, and mother in the form of Mrs. Malfoy, but also an adoring father figure in the form of Mr. Sirius Black, a person who I also owe an apology to. In your haste to run out of the Great Hall, you missed two owls who have also brought letters for you, Harry,” Dumbledore said. He pulled out two letters from his robes and Harry immediately recognized Mrs. Malfoy’s and Sirius’s handwriting. “I hope that you would accept these letters, as well as my apologies Harry Potter-Malfoy,” Dumbledore said. “It seems I was wrong to worry about you. Now, if you excuse me, I believe classes start in ten minutes. Ta-ta.”

Dumbledore walked away from them, whistling a jolly little tune. Harry and Draco immediately opened the letters, reading Mrs. Malfoy’s first.

_Harry,_

_I hope this letter gets to you before your father’s does. I’ve saw him write the howler and I was just so terribly stunned and outraged. Please do not think that either my cousin or I share in his mentality. We love you so very much, and are excited that you have been sorted into Gryffindor. Sirius says that your father, your real father, would have been proud, and I agree. I know that no matter which house you or Draco are in that you’ll be the very best wizards that you two can be. Always remember that I love you, both of you very much. You’ve grown into a fine young man after all these years, and I cannot wait to see you grow and mature during your studies._

_Love,_

_Mum_

And Sirius’s

_Harry, my boy!_

_My son! James would have been so proud, and so am I! Who cares about what that old fart Lucius thinks? All that matters is that you and Draco get good grades and have a little mischief! If you get this letter after that nasty man’s howler, then I’m sorry. I truly am sorry, please know that I love you Harry as if you were my own. Now, I was going to save this information till you are home for Christmas, but I decided that I cannot wait any longer._

_Harry, I got great news: I brought a house!_

_Or, more importantly, the house right next to Malfoy Manor! Yeah, it’s a bit too close to Lucius Mal-face for my liking, but who cares? We have a home just to ourselves! And I got it at such a bargain too! You’ll never believe this._

_Well, the house used to be owned by this old lady, lovely thing. Old money, insults everything. Well she placed the house on the market for an absurd amount of Muggle money and I showed up with just a pouch of Galleons. I’ve showed her one Galleon and the woman, thinking that it was real gold, fell in love with it, why I think that was the first time her eyes went that wide in a long while! She asked me how many of these gold coins I have, so I just simply tipped the bag over and twenty-four other Galleons fell out. Why, the Muggle woman was quick on them and asked me if they were real. I said “Of course they’re real!” And she offered everything she had for them. I told her that I just wand the house, and before I knew it I had the deed in my hand before tea time! Now I’m a bachelor in a very large pad and fixing up a room for you whenever you need it!_

_I love you Harry, never forget that._

_Sirius_

_P.S. Tell Draco that I love him too, and that he’s always welcomed as well._

Harry’s tears started again. He hugged Draco and whispered, “You guys love me.”

“Of course we do,” Draco whispered. “Come on, let’s do what Hagrid said and forget about all this, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, and they both headed to class.

There was a lot more to magic, as Harry quickly found out, than waving your wand and saying a few words. They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout, where they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for.

Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost, Professor Binns. This was one of the few classes that Harry and Draco shared, and they were both sleeping within ten minutes, their glasses pushing against the side of their faces. Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk.

Professor McGonagall was different. Harry had been quite right to think she wasn’t a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class. (Harry was sadden to see that this wasn’t a class he shared with Draco and the Slytherins.)

“Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts,” she said. “Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned.”

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn’t wait to get started, but soon realized that they weren’t going to be changing furniture into animals for a very long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. It took Harry until the end of the lesson, but even then, the match was only silver and had a pointy edge. Still, Professor McGonagall awarded Harry five points after she shown it to the class.

The class everyone had been really looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, Harry and Draco even shared the class and sat next to each other, but Quirrell’s class turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he’d met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren’t sure they believed his story.

Harry felt a bit like he was cheating coming from a magical family as there were many who came from Muggle families and hadn’t had any idea that they were witches and wizards. That said, even though he and Draco played with toy wands and cauldrons almost every day in their childhood, they didn’t have a very big head start.

Friday came and the sadness and frustration Harry felt on Monday because of Mr. Malfoy seemed a distant memory. He and Ron were in the Great Hall and he asked, “What have we got today?”

“Double Potions with the Slytherins. Snape’s Head of Slytherin House. They say he always favors them—we’ll be able to see if it’s true.”

“At least we’ll be with Blaise and Draco again,” Harry smiled.

“Yeah that’s true… think you can kiss us all again?” Ron asked with a goofy grin.

“No little brother, no more kisses for you!” Fred Weasley said sitting next to them.

“That’s right, you’re giving us a bad name, you are,” George said. “Getting more kisses than your older brothers… how rude of you.”

“Indeed, do you have anything to defend yourself, or do we have to tell Mum about all this kissing action?” Fred asked.

Ron blushed and said, “It’s not my fault that Harry and I like kissing each other! It’s just kissing! He does it to Draco and Blaise too!”

“Just kissing? Oh our dear mother would have a field day,” Fred sighed.

“True, true… unless Harry wants to share his love with us, Fred,” George said.

“He is a cute little kid, but it would weird, wouldn’t it George? We’ve known him since he was a little thing,” Fred said. “I can’t get the image out of my mind.”

“Then what will we do?”

“You can try nothing,” Harry said. “That sounds very reasonable to me. You’re not one of my husbands so I’m not going to kiss you.”

“Husbands? Did you hear that Fred? Ron’s gone and gotten married before us too! Before any of us!” George snickered.

“Married at age eleven, I’m sure there’s some sort of rule against that,” Fred laughed. “Anyway, have fun with your married life boys!” The two laughed and walked away. Ron and Harry stared at each other confused before shrugging.

The twins can be exceptionally weird sometimes, they’ve noted.

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

Draco looked happy to be with Harry again, but couldn’t get Harry to sit at the same table with him as Pansy Parkinson sat in the only remaining seat next to him at his table and refused to let it go. “Go back to the Gryffindor’s side, Potter,” she whispered, causing Blaise and Draco to glare at her.

Snape began class by taking the roll call, and he paused at Harry’s name.

“Ah, yes,” he said softly, “Harry Potter-Malfoy. Our new— _celebrity_.”

Parkinson and Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid’s, but they had none of Hagrid’s warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels.

“You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making,” he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word—like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. “As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. …I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.”

More silence followed this little speech. Harry and Ron exchanged looks with raised eyebrows. They both glance towards Draco and saw on his face an expression of pure worship. He was hanging onto Snape’s every word, looking desperate to prove himself.

“Potter!” Snape said suddenly. “What would I get if I add powdered root of asphodel  to an infusion of wormwood?”

Harry glanced at Draco, who was looking at him expectedly. Hermione Granger’s hand had shot into the air.

“Umm a sleeping potion,” Harry said.

Snape’s lips curled into a sneer.

“A guess… fame clearly isn’t everything. Let’s try again, Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

He knew this one! Confidently too! “The stomach of a goat,” he said.

“What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?” Snape sneered.

Hermione’s hand was stretched as high as she could without jumping out of the chair. Draco was staring at Harry with the same expectation, as if their years of playing potion were all just practice leading up to this point.

“They’re the same,” Harry said in a questioning voice.

Snape just glared at Harry, clearly not pleased at all with his correct answers. “A point, Mr. Potter, from Gryffindor for your cheekiness.”

Harry stared at Professor Snape. What cheekiness? He wasn’t cheeky!

Things didn’t improve for the Gryffindors as the Potion lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils, something that Harry and Draco could easily done if they were paired together (they weren’t). Snape swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weight dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Draco, whom he seemed to like. Harry couldn’t help but glare at his brother, wondering what it was exactly Draco was doing different from Harry, as their potions seemed to be at the same place. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Draco had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus’s cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people’s shoes.

Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

“Idiot boy!” Snape snarled, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. “I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire? Take him away to the hospital wing,” he spat at Seamus. Then he rounded on Harry and Ron, who was working next to Neville and whose potion was mostly done (Harry did most of the work).

“You—Potter—why didn’t you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he’d make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That’s another point you’ve lost for Gryffindor.”

“My last name’s Malfoy,” Harry said before Ron could stop him.

“Excuse me?”

“I said my last name’s Malfoy or Potter-Malfoy,” Harry said. “I only use those two at the moment. Not Potter.”

Snape gave Harry a cold smile. “I am sorry, Malfoy, perhaps ten points from Gryffindor will rectify my mistake.”

“What did you do that for?” Ron asked as they climbed the steps out of the dungeon an hour later. “Trying to pick fights with Snape on the first day!”

“I didn’t like the way he said my dad’s name,” Harry said. “I couldn’t take it.”

“So what? All of that was just so he wouldn’t say ‘Potter’?” Ron asked as if the whole thing was ludicrous.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded.

“That’s… that’s insane, mate!” Ron said, but Harry shrugged. “Ehh, forget about it,” Ron continued. “Snape’s always taking points off Fred and George. Hey, can I come and meet Hagrid with you and Draco?”

At five to three they left the castle and made their way across the grounds, Draco giving Harry the same talk-to that Ron gave. The three made their way to the small hut where Hagrid lives, and he invited them inside.

“Make yerselves at home,” Hagrid said, letting go of Fang, who was actually awake and bounded straight at Ron and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked.

“This is Ron,” Draco said.

“Another Weasley, eh?” Hagrid said, glancing at Ron’s freckles. “I spent half me life chasin’ yer twin brothers away from the forest.”

The three told Hagrid about their first week of classes; Fang was resting his head on Draco’s lap, drooling all over his robes. Harry began to complain about Professor Snape when Hagrid drastically changed the subject, looking at Ron and said, “How’s yer brother Charlie? I liked him a lot—great with animals.”

Harry wondered if Hagrid had changed the subject on purpose. While Ron told Hagrid all about Charlie’s work with dragons, Harry picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cozy. Draco leaned against him as they looked at the cutting from the _Daily Prophet_.

**GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST**

Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the word of Dark wizards or witches unknown. Gringotts goblins today insist that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched, which this reporter found out was Vault seven hundred and thirteen, had in fact been emptied the same day.

“But we’re not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what’s good for you,” said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon.

“Strange, that’s near our vaults,” Draco whispered. “And it was emptied on your birthday.”

“Why would Hagrid keep this?” Harry asked. “Cutting it out and everything.”

“Maybe it was his vault?”

“No, doesn’t seem like it,” Harry said.

“Maybe Dumbledore sent him to get something?” Draco whispered.

“Maybe, but why would Hagrid have a cutting unless—ohh,” Harry said.

“Should we ask him about it?” Draco asked.

“I don’t know.”

They both looked at Hagrid. He must know something about the break-in, why else would he have a clipping of the article? Maybe Draco was right and Dumbledore asked him to get it, but Harry had a distinct feeling that Hagrid will not be in such a telling mood. They left Hagrid’s hut for dinner, their pockets weighed down with rock cakes they’d been too polite refuse. Harry and Draco seemed lost in thought as they wondered where whatever was in the vault was now. Could it be in the castle? Harry felt like he and Draco needed to talk about this more.

So after dinner, Harry made his way down the dungeon staircases and turned left. He walked along the gloomy corridor until he reached a dead end and said, “Dragon’s tongue.”

The wall to his right began to shake and reveal a small portrait hole which Harry climbed into. The Slytherin common room had a green glow. Black leather sofas and armchairs surrounded a fireplace decorated with skulls, and there was a large window that Harry guessed showed out to the Black Lake. The room was filled with Slytherins, who all turned to stare at Harry as the Gryffindor walked in.

“What’s he doing here?”

“How did he even get in?”

“Get out Scarhead!”

“Harry! Surprised to see you here.” The last voice was that of Marcus Flint. The fifth year stood up and walked towards Harry, slapping him playfully on his back. “So what, the Gryffindor trying to play snake now, is it?” The teen asked.

“Umm actually I’m looking for my brother—”

“HEY! GET OUT!”

Harry turned to see Pansy Parkinson standing with her arms crossed. A few other Slytherins agreed with her. Blaise and Draco pushed their way past the crowd to where Flint and Harry were standing. “Harry, what’s the matter?” Draco asked.

“Just wanted to talk with you,” Harry said. “About what we read today.”

“Okay, I was thinking about that too,” Draco shrugged.

“What is he doing here!? How did he even know where we are?” Parkinson demanded.

“Oh, I told him,” Draco said.

“Excuse me!”

“What? He’s my brother,” Draco said. “Here, let’s go talk in my dorm, alright?” He took Harry’s hand and walked him out of the common room, through a pair of doors, and into his dormitory. Behind them the Slytherins bickered amongst themselves, Marcus Flint’s laughter overshadowing them.

The door closed behind them and Harry immediately hugged Draco, kissing him. Draco smirked and said, “You just wanted to kiss me, didn’t you?”

“Yeah… but I really want to talk to you,” Harry said.

“Go ahead.”

“Do you have any idea what might have been in that vault? The one that was broke-in?” Harry asked.

“No, I don’t,” Draco said. “Do you?”

“No, but it has to involve Hagrid and Dumbledore, right?” Harry asked.

“Yeah,” Draco said.

“And um… that’s all I got,” Harry blushed. Draco chuckled and ruffled Harry’s hair. He giggled and pushed Draco’s hand away. “But he was right, you know,” he said.

“About what?”

“I didn’t think about da—father,” Harry said. “Not once.”

“Strange… me neither,” Draco admitted. They shared a smile and Harry hugged Draco. “You know,” Harry said. “I think that this can work… that we’re going to be okay.”

“I’m glad Harry,” Draco said. “I don’t think I could ever lose you.” He kissed the top of Harry’s head.

“Good, because I’m not going anywhere. Oh, in fact…” He leaned up to Draco’s ear and whispered, “Go to the seventh floor and find the portrait of a really fat lady in a pink dress. The password so far is ‘Caput Draconis.’ Easy to remember right?” Harry gave Draco a cheeky grin. “It’s the Gryffindor common room. I’ll tell everyone I know that I want my brother to visit… but let’s wait till it’s an emergency.”

“Of course, Harry,” Draco chuckled. “Now… I think it’s time for the lion Malfoy to kiss the snake Malfoy goodnight.”

“Okay, but only if you never refer to us like that ever again. …Ever,” Harry said seriously. Draco laughed and agreed before taking Harry’s lips in his again.


	15. The Trophy Room

**The Fifteenth Chapter**

**The Trophy Room**

The First Years started their flying lessons on Thursday. Harry was excited for it. After flying around his toy brooms, and riding with Bill and Charlie on their brooms, this was going to be his first day flying around on a real life broomstick all by himself! And Draco is going to be with him too!

That morning, Hermione Granger was boring everyone stupid with flying tips she’d gotten out of a library book called _Quidditch Through the Ages_. Only Neville Longbottom hung on her every word, desperate for anything that might help him hang on to his broomstick later, but everybody else was very pleased when Hermione’s lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the mail. A small owl landed in front of Harry and dropped a letter full of pictures. Harry opened it and smiled as a few pictures fell out. “This is the house I told you about,” he said to Ron.

“Wicked,” Ron said taking a picture to look at it. In it was Sirius Black smiling like a madman in front of a very large, and very old looking house.

“What’s that?” Seamus Finnigan asked.

“Harry’s godfather,” Ron said. “He brought this house with only Twenty Galleons or something ridiculous!”

“Twenty-five,” Harry corrected him. “He brought it from a senile old muggle woman.” Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas laughed while Hermione Granger gave a slight frown.

“That doesn’t sound very nice,” she said.

“Who cares? He wrote that she was a loon,” Harry said picking up a picture. “Look—this is going to be my and Draco’s room.”

A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke. “It’s a Remembrall!” he explained. “Gran knows I forget things—this tells you if there’s something you’ve forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red—oh…” His face fell because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, “…you’ve forgotten something …”

Neville was trying to remember what he had forgotten as Harry turned back to the photos Sirius sent him. They were exterior shots of the house, and photos of Sirius showing off the inside of the house smiling broadly. Then he reached the last picture… which had a small note attached to it. _I found this photo in box I’ve hid in my old home. I thought you should have it—Sirius_

Harry stared at the photo it was two teenage boys smiling. One boy had unruly raven hair, brown eyes behind his glasses, a very handsome face and pale skin. The other boy looked like a younger version of Sirius, he was taller than the pale-skin boy, broader like the Sirius of today, his hair long and wavy reaching the bottom of his ears. They had their arms around each other’s waist, and from the looks of it they were on the Hogwarts grounds, in front of the Black Lake. “Dad…” Harry whispered.

He stared at the boy who was his father. They had the same hair… same skin… they looked absolutely identical. Except their eyes. Harry’s were green like emeralds or summer grass while his father’s were dark-brown like two dark gemstones shining in the sun. Harry smiled at the picture, but hid it when Ron tried to look over his shoulder. He didn’t want Ron or anyone else to see it yet. The picture was just for Harry, and Harry alone.

At three-thirty that afternoon, Harry, Ron, and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawn towards a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

Harry waved at Draco and Blaise as the Gryffindors lined up against ten of twenty broomsticks. The two waved at Harry, the three of them ignoring the odd looks the Slytherins and Gryffindors gave them. Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair and yellow eyes like a hawk.

“Well, what are you all waiting for?” she barked. “Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up.”

Harry glanced down at his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.

“Stick out your right hand over your broom,” Madam Hooch called at the front, “and say ‘Up!’”

“UP!” everyone shouted.

Harry’s broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Hermione Granger’s had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville’s haven’t moved at all. Blaise’s gave a tiny shrug before falling to the ground again, but Draco’s went to his hand at once too.

They mounted the brooms after Madam Hooch showed them how, and she walked down the rows correcting their grips. Harry couldn’t help but snicker when she told Draco that he has been doing it wrong for years.

“Now, when I blow my whistle, you kill off from the ground, hard,” Madam Hooch said. “Keep your broom steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. One my whistle—three—two—”

But Neville nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch’s lips. He rose straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle—higher and higher until he fell, diving straight down with clearly no control of his broom. He slipped sideways off the broom and—

WHAM—a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay facedownon the grass in a heap, his broomstick falling right next to him. Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.

“Broken wrist… Come on, boy—it’s all right, up you get.” She turned to the rest of the class. “None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! If anyone of you touches those broomsticks, you’ll be out of here before you can say ‘Quidditch.’” Neville, his face tear-stained, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Draco burst into laughter. “Did you see his face, the great lump?”

“Shut up Draco,” Harry snapped as the other Slytherins joined in his laughter. “Seriously don’t be a prat.”

“I’m not being a prat, just stating what I saw,” Draco said. “Look!” He darted forward and snatched something out of the grass. “It’s a Remembrall… thing if he held this he would have remembered to hold onto the broom?” He smirked at Harry.

“Serious, shut up and give it to me,” Harry said, his hand reaching out.

“I was only joking,” Draco said. He threw the Remembrall at Harry who moved to catch it, only for it to be intercepted by another Slytherin. “Goyle, give it to him,” Draco demanded.

“No don’t! Let’s have some fun,” Parkinson’s annoying voice said. Goyle turned to throw it at Parkinson, only he threw it too high, way too high. Higher and higher it went into the air, easily reaching ten feet.

“No!” Harry shouted. Without thinking, he got onto his broom and kicked off of the ground and up, up, up he soared; air rushing through his hair and his robes whipped out behind him. He reached out for the Remembrall as it began to fall, leaning against the broomstick so he could get the most reach. He followed the ball, falling with it as he dived. A food from the ground he caught it, just in time to pull his broom straight, and he toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in his fist.

“HARRY POTTER-MALFOY!”

His heart sank faster than he’d just dived. Professor McGonagall was running toward them. He got to his feet, trembling.

“Never—in all my time at Hogwarts—”

Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously, “—how dare you—might have broken your neck—”

“It wasn’t his fault, Professor,” Draco said.

“Be quite Mr. Malfoy.”

“But Professor—”

“That’s enough. Potter-Malfoy, follow me, now.”

He walked numbly in Professor McGonagall’s wake as she strode toward the castle. He looked over his shoulder to see his brother looking shocked and frighten as well. Mr. Malfoy was going to be furious when he hears about this. Up the front steps, up the marble staircase inside, and still Professor McGonagall did not say a word to him. Harry followed her miserably.

Professor McGonagall stopped in front of a classroom. She opened the door and poke her head inside. “Excuse me, Professor Quirrell, might I borrow Oliver Wood for a moment?”

“O-Of course, y-yes,” stuttered the frightened voice of Professor Quirrell. A burly fifth-year boy with a very handsome face came out looking confused.

‘Potter, this is Oliver Wood. Wood—I’ve found you a Seeker,” Professor McGonagall said.

Wood’s expression changed from puzzlement to delight. “Are you serious, Professor?”

“Absolutely,” Professor McGonagall said crisply. “The boy’s a natural. I’ve never seen anything like it. Was that your first time on a broomstick, Potter?”

Harry nodded, “Alone, I’ve been on them multiple times with Bill and Charlie Weasley.”

“He caught that thing in his hand after a sharp dive from ten feet and didn’t even scratch himself. Charlie Weasley couldn’t have done it,” Professor McGonagall told Wood.

Wood was now looking as though all his dreams had come true at once. “Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Potter-Malfoy—which one?”

“I use both.”

“Then Potter.”

“Wood’s captain of the Gryffindor team,” Professor McGonagall explained.

“He’s just the build for a Seeker, too,” Wood said, now walking around Harry and staring at him. “Light—speedy—nicely shaped… we’ll have to get him a decent broom, Professor—a Nimbus Two Thousand or a Cleansweep Seven, I’d say.”

“I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can’t bend the first-year rule. Heaven knows, we need a better team than last year. Flattened in the last match by Slytherin, I couldn’t look Severus Snape in the face for weeks. …”

Professor McGonagall peered sternly over her glasses at harry. “I want to hear you’re training hard, Potter-Malfoy, or I may change my mind about punishing you.”

Then she suddenly smiled. “Your father would have been proud,” she said. “He was an excellent Quidditch player himself. I am sure Mr. Malfoy will be proud as well.”

Harry frowned and looked at her. “Can you… can you just tell my Mum and godfather Sirius?” he asked. “My father’s… mad at me because… you know… and I don’t want to get him even madder.” His cheeks blushed.

“Of course,” Professor McGonagall nodded.

Wood smirked at Harry and said, “I know your brother’s a Slytherin, right? Hope you don’t have no hard feelings crushing his house.”

“I don’t,” Harry said, brightening quickly. “I always win when we play Quidditch!”

 

“Are you serious?”

It was after dinnertime. Harry had just finished telling Ron and Draco what had happened when he’d left the grounds with Professor McGonagall. They were in the entrance hall, Ron was staring at him in disbelief as Draco just glared at him jealously.

“Seeker?” Ron said. “But first years never—you must be the youngest house playing in—”

“—a century, Wood told me that,” Harry said, feeling practically excited.

“So you tell me the _one_ time I decide to be nice, you get rewarded?” Draco demanded. “What kind of world do we live in?” he threw his hands in the air sighing dramatically.

“One time? Draco, you’re a prat all the time,” Ron said laughing.

“Oh shut it, Weasley!” Draco said.

“I start training next week,” Harry continued. “Only don’t tell anyone, Wood wants to keep it a secret.” He gave Draco a sharp look.

“As if I’ll tell Flint,” Draco said. “There’s no way I’ll ruin the shock on their faces.” He had a gleeful smirk on his face as Hermione Granger walked up to them, looking stern.

“That was too dangerous Harry, whatever were you thinking?” she asked.

“What’s it to you?” Ron said. “He was saving Neville’s Remembrall, thank you very much.”

“Still it was against the rules,” Hermione said. “You could have lost all the points we’ve gain.”

The three boys started walking away, Ron leading them, but Hermione wasn’t going to give up easily, following them. “No offense to your brother Harry, but I’m sure that I’m not the only one who wants to lose the House Cup to Slytherin. What you did was reckless, selfish and absolutely dangerous!”

“Sod off it was wicked,” Ron said. “And just so you know, Harry’s now the _Seeker_ of our Quidditch team because of his ‘reckless, selfish and absolutely dangerous’ actions!”

Hermione stopped. “You are? But first years never get on the house team,” she said.

“They made an exception…” Harry said. “Professor McGonagall was impressed by my dive and catch.”

“Still,” Hermione frowned. “What you’ve done was dangerous! Can’t you see that?”

They began walking up the marble staircase, not really paying attention to where they were going. Under their feet the staircases changed, shifting left to right and right to left.

“Of course, I know it was dangerous,” Harry said getting a little annoyed both at Hermione and Ron’s interruption as he said, “Who cares? It looked wicked!”

“Already said that,” Draco sighed.

“You! I thought you would be more responsible with this,” Hermione said turning to Draco. “Your younger brother could have been seriously hurt!”

“How’d you know he was my younger brother?” Draco asked.

“Well… he’s smaller than you so I guessed,” Hermione said, her cheeks going pink. Draco smirked and said, “You’re right… still kind of weird that you know that.”

“Hang on… where are we?” Harry asked. They looked around. They left the marble staircase some minutes ago and started going down a random corridor. It looked darker than the others, grimier and less used. He turned to Ron and asked, “Where did you take us?”

“I don’t know! How was I supposed to know you guys were following me,” Ron said.

Draco groaned, “Stupid Weasley, can’t even walk correctly.” He looked around and frowned. “Anyone keeping track of how many floors we climbed?”

“No.”

“No.”

“Three… I think,” Hermione said. Harry and Draco looked at her. They looked around and Harry saw through the grim and darkness suits of armor stood on either side of the corridor, each holding their weapon upright in sturdy armored hands. There was a door near them and Ron went to it, pushing it open. The four walked inside. The room was filled with crystal trophy cases that glimmered in the torch and moonlight where they caught them. Cups, shields, plates, and statures winked silver and gold in the darkness. They edged along the walls, keeping their eyes on the doors at either end. “This is the Trophy Room,” Hermione said. She went towards a case and read out loud, “’Special Services to the School—Tom M. Riddle.’ He must have done something amazing to get this.”

“Huh…” Harry said. He looked around and turned to Draco and Ron. “Do you think my dad’ll be in here?”

“What do you mean?” Ron asked.

“Professor McGonagall said that my dad was an amazing Quidditch player, he might be in here,” Harry said.

“Mr. Malfoy?” Ron said, with a confused, slightly disgusted look on his face. Harry shook his head and said, “No, my real dad.”

“Ohh, right,” Ron said.

“It’s possible… they should keep all Quidditch trophies here,” Hermione said. The three boys immediately fanned out in search for Harry’s dad’s trophy. Hermione made a frustrated noise that was a mixture of a grunt and a sigh before joining them.

The trophy room seemed endless to Harry, everywhere he looked he saw trophies upon trophies, accomplishments on top of accomplishments, some going back to the seventeen hundreds! There were medals for spelling-bees, plates for winning a Toad Choir competition in 1823-45; honors for outstanding work; a statue for more “Spirited Spirit” that went to the Fat Friar in 1783. Harry stopped at a large ornate shield that had a desk being transfigured into a horse, then into a wineglass, then into the desk again that read “For Excellences in Transfiguration: Minerva McGonagall.”

“Look at this,” he said, pointing at the shield as Hermione, who was closest, walked by. She looked at it and said, “I heard that she was at the top of her class when she went here. It’s only natural that she teaches us.”

Harry nodded in agreement and continued his search for his dad’s trophy. Their search continued well into the night. The moon rose higher and higher, it’s light illuminating the trophy room as the four walked around deep in search for James Potter’s Quidditch Trophies. During their search, Harry had found and read a number of other honors that included such names like Merlin, Newton Scamander, Morgan le Fay, Snape (much to Harry’s grimace and disgruntlement), and many awards for Dumbledore with a plaque that read “He was too humble to place them in his office, so he told us to stuff them in here.”

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Draco called out, “Harry! I found it!” The three other students ran towards Draco who was standing in front of a wall of enormous silver cups, all surrounded by different House colors. Draco was standing in front of a small row of Gryffindor trophies that were only stopped by Slytherin colors. Harry stood next to Draco and looked at the trophy that Draco was pointing to.

Harry leaned forward and gasped as he pointed at his father’s name. “There he is! ‘James Potter—Chaser!” he said excitedly.

The other two looked at it for a bit before Hermione said, “Great… now that we’ve found it, we can go and try to find our way back right?” The boys didn’t answer her, too transfixed looking at the Quidditch trophies and names. “Guys! It’s after curfew! If we get caught—”

A snickering sound started behind them. The four turned, shocked, to see a short impish man with wickedly slanted, orange eyes, dressed in loud, outlandish clothes including a bell-covered hat and an orange bow tie hovering in the air. He had black hair and looked completely solid-looking, not like the other ghosts that Harry has seen in the castle.

“Peeves,” Hermione moaned, looking terribly frightened.

The poltergeist gave a squeal in delight, “Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you’ll get caught.”

“Not if you don’t give us away, Peeves, please,” Harry said.

Peeves crackled. “Should tell Filch, I should,” he said in a saintly voice, but his eyes glittered wickedly. “It’s for your own good, you know.”

“Move,” Draco snapped, taking a swipe at Peeves—this was a big mistake.

“STUDENTS OUT OF BED!” Peeves bellowed. “STUDENTS OUT OF BED IN THE TROPHY ROOM!”

Ducking under Peeves, they ran for their lives, out of the second door and right down to the end of the corridor where they slammed into a door—and it was locked.

“This is it!” Ron moaned, as they pushed helplessly at the door, “We’re done for! This is the end! Harry! I need another kiss, please!”

They could hear footsteps, Filch running as fast as he could toward Peeves’s shouts.

“Oh, move over,” Hermione snarled. She pulled out her own wand, tapped the lock, and said, “ _Alohomora!_ ”

The lock clicked and the door swung open—they piled through it, shut it quickly, and pressed their ears against it, listening.

“Which way did they go, Peeves?” Filch was saying. “Quick, tell me!”

“Say ‘please.’”

“Don’t mess with me Peeves, now where did they go?”

“Shan’t say nothing if you don’t please.”

“All right— _please_.”

“NOTHING! Ha haa! Told you I wouldn’t say nothing if you didn’t say please! Ha ha Haaa!  And they heard the sound of Peeves whooshing away and Filch cursing in rage.

“He thinks this is locked,” Draco whispered. “We’ll be good to leave in a while.”

Harry nodded and felt a hot breath on the back of his neck. “Stop it Ron,” he said. The hot breath continued down his neck, and Harry said, “Ron stop breathing on me, we’ll kiss later.”

“Harry… I’m over here,” Ron said a few inches to his right. Harry looked at him confused. “Then who…” They all turned around and saw quite clearly what was breathing on him. They weren’t in a room, as he supposed. They were in a corridor, the forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now they knew why it was forbidden.

They were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs.

It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and Harry knew that the only reason they weren’t already dead was that their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that, there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant. Harry grabbed for the doorknob and pushed, they fell backwards—Harry slammed the door shut, and they ran, they almost flew, back down the corridor, back through the trophy room, all the way back to the seventh floor and stopped only when they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

In the darkness, she couldn’t see Draco’s Slytherin robes as she said, “Where on earth have you all been?”

“Never mind that—pig snout, pig snout,” Harry yelled frantically and the portrait swung forward. They scrambled into the common room and collapsed, trembling into armchairs.

“What the bloody hell were they thinking keeping a thing like that there?” Ron panted.

“Who in the right mind keeps a murderous dog in the school?” Draco said.

Hermione had got both her breath and her temper back again. “You don’t use your eyes, any of you, do you?” she snapped. “Didn’t you see what it was standing on?”

“Eyes? Granger Harry and I have glasses! Our eyes aren’t exactly perfect now, is it?” Draco said. “Besides, we were a bit too busy looking at its heads! Or didn’t you notice, there were _three_ of them!”

“It was standing on something, a trapdoor,” Hermione said. “It’s obviously guarding something.”

She stood up, glaring at them.

“I hope you’re pleased with yourselves. We could all have been killed—or worse, expelled. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going ot bed.”

Ron stared at her, his mouth open. “You think we dragged her along!” he said. “Besides, what she complaining about, she was the one who followed us!”

But Hermione had given Harry something to think about. The dog was guarding something… For some reason his mind kept turning back to the newspaper clipping at Hagrid’s hut, about the vault that has been emptied before it was broken-in. “Harry? Harry!” Ron said.

Harry snapped out of his thoughts and looked at Ron, who was pointing at Draco. “What we do with him? He’s not exactly a Gryffindor, isn’t he?”

“Thank god for that,” Draco muttered, crossing his arms.

“He’ll stay in my bed,” Harry said at once.

“Isn’t that against the rules or something?” Ron asked.

“Now you’re worrying about rules?” Draco sneered as he stood up to follow Harry. Ron just shrugged and looked at Harry sheepishly.

“Umm what I said in that corridor… about the kiss…”

“You want one?” Harry asked. Ron nodded shamelessly and Harry sighed. He leaned on his toes and kissed Ron for a second and moved to Draco to kiss him for even longer to stop him from complaining before he even started.

“Hey! Why is his longer?” Ron pouted.

“He’s my brother, Ron, I get special treatment,” Draco smirked as he wrapped an arm around Harry’s shoulder. The boy just blushed as they started up the stairs. He looked at Draco and whispered, “The package that Hagrid got for Dumbledore…”

“You think that it’s under that dog-thing?” Draco asked.

“Yeah.”

“Seems likely,” Draco hummed. They sneaked into the first-year boy’s dormitory and Harry brought Draco to his bed. Since they didn’t have any pajamas for Draco, they both decided to just wear their underwear and undershirts. The two climbed into the bed and Harry couldn’t help but ask aloud, “What was it that Dumbledore got from Gringotts that needs a gigantic dog to guard?”

The next morning Draco and Harry had to awaken early before everyone else. Draco dressed in his robes and the two had to sneak down the stairs quietly to avoid waking anyone else. They opened the portrait hole and Harry waved as Draco walked out. The hole closed, and Harry sneaked back to his bed and feign being asleep until the others woke up.

Hermione was now refusing to speak to Harry and Ron, but she was such a bossy know-it-all that they saw this as an added bonus. As the owls flooded in the Great Hall as usual, everyone’s attention was caught at once by a long, thin package carried by six large screech owls. Harry was just as interested as everyone else, and surprised to see that the owls landed in front of him, as another owl dropped a couple of letters on top of the parcel.

Harry ripped the letter open first and was lucky that he did because it said:

DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE.  
_It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don’t want everybody knowing you’ve got a broomstick or they’ll all want one. Oliver Wood will meet you tonight on the Quidditch field at seven o’clock for your first training session. Do not worry about the pay, your Godfather Sirius Black took care of it._

_Professor M. McGonagall._

The second:

_HARRY YOU LUCKY BOY I LOVE YOU!_

_I just got the letter from Professor McGonagall and I have to say you are turning out to be just like your father! Snake talking and all! Congratulations on getting on the team Harry, but seriously could you have at least wait a year, or tried something a little dangerous? Your first time on an actual broomstick (as for as I know) and you’re diving and making saves! You could have fallen and gotten hurt! Anyway, on to more important things…_

_Narcissa sends her love, I had to convince her not to send you her letter it was two_ scrolls _worth of worrying and, so far, it seems that me moving out was the best idea I had in years. Narcissa even mentioned to me one time that old stony-faced Lucius actually smiled! Yes smiled! During breakfast! I didn’t know he could do that. And I hope that you liked the last picture I’ve sent you. I still remember the day we took it, great day, we had to bug Remus for an hour to take several pictures before we settled on that one. … I swear you thought your father never saw the sky with how pale his skin used to be, barely get a tan that boy. …_

_Anyway, love you kid, and I know that you’ll do great._

_Love,_

_Sirius_

Harry had difficulty containing his glee as he handed the first note to Ron to read. He kept staring at the second. He was happy that Mr. Malfoy appeared to be smiling again but still his thoughts returned to the Howler. It didn’t matter what Mrs. Malfoy or Sirius said, he wanted an apology from Mr. Malfoy, either personally or by letter, and it didn’t look like it would be arriving soon. And the way he started talking about his dad, for some reason Harry felt like Sirius was starting to feel down being by himself at the house.

Harry and Ron left the hall quickly, wanting to unwrap the broomstick in private before their first class. They ran back to the common room and opened it, gazing in awe. The broom was slick and shiny, with a mahogany handle, it had a long tail of neat, straight twigs and Nimbus Two Thousand written in gold near the top. The two boys grinned at each other as Ron said, “Your brother’s going to be so jealous when he sees this.”

Harry nodded in agreement, but they couldn’t stay long as the bell for their first class began to ring. Harry had a lot of trouble concentrating, his mind kept going back to the broomstick waiting on his bed. He gobbled his dinner down without paying attention to what he was eating, and raced back at to the dorms to gazing lovingly at his new broom again.

At seven o’clock Harry left the castle and set off in the dusk towards the Quidditch field. Too excited to try out his broom, he mounted it and kicked off from the ground and fifty feet into the air! He swooshed and dived in and out of the goal posts and then sped up and down the field. The Nimbus Two Thousand turned wherever he wanted at his lightest touch.

“Hey, Potter! Come down!” Oliver Wood called out. Harry landed next to him. Wood had a large box with him. “Very nice Harry! I can see what McGonagall meant, you’re a natural on the broom. So Harry,” he said. “What do you know about Quidditch?”

“I played it whenever I was at the Wesley’s,” Harry said. “Actually it’s more like I rode with Charlie on his broom. But I know the rules and balls.”

Wood nodded and opened the chest he was carrying. “Right, so tell me Harry, who are the players?”

“There’s Three Chasers, they throw the Quaffle,” Harry pointed at the right red ball the size of a soccer ball, “to each other in order to get it into the goals over there! It’s Ten points a goal, and each team has a Keeper who flies around to stop the other team from scoring.”

“That’s right,” Wood nodded, impressed. “I’m Keeper for Gryffindor Team.”

Harry nodded. He looked at the two small clubs and said, “Those are for the Beaters, they have to hit the Bludgers away from the other team members before they get hurt,” he pointed to the small black ball that was chained inside. “And lastly is the Seeker, I have to get the Golden Snitch.” He looked at the last ball, it was tiny, about the size of a large walnut. It was bright gold and had little fluttering silver wings. “I get that, and we win.”

“Good job Harry, you know your stuff,” Oliver smiled. He ruffled Harry’s hair, who blushed. “The Seeker wins his team an extra hundred and fifty points, so they nearly always win. That’s why Seekers get fouled so much. A game of Quidditch only ends when the Snitch is caught, so it can go on for ages—I think the record is three months, they had to keep bringing on substitutes so the players could get some sleep. And… that’s it, any questions?”

“No.”

“Good. We’re going to start practicing with these,” he pulled out ordinary gold balls out of his pocket and a few minutes later, he and Harry were up in the air, Wood throwing the golf balls as hard as he could in every direction for Harry to catch.

He didn’t miss a single one.

Wood was very delighted. When they came down an hour later, he ruffled Harry’s hair again and said, “That Quidditch cup’ll have our name on it this year! I wouldn’t be surprised to see you turn out better than Charlie Weasley, and he could have played for England if he hadn’t gone off chasing dragons!”

Harry smiled at the compliment, excited at being compared so favorably to Charlie. He couldn’t wait to tell him and the rest of the Weasley family about this! And Sirius, he had to get a picture of him holding the Quidditch Cup! Maybe that’ll lift Sirius’s mood.


	16. This is Halloween

**The Sixteenth Chapter**

**This is Halloween**

September and October moved quickly for Harry. He did not know where the time went but before he knew it, he and Draco were at Hogwarts for nearly two months. Their lessons were becoming more and more interesting now that they had mastered the basics.

On Halloween morning Draco sat with Ron and Harry during charms class where Professor Flitwick announced that he thought they were ready to make things fly, something the class was very eager to start to do. Professor Flitwick put the class into pairs to practice. Harry was partnered with his brother, which was a relief because Neville had been trying to catch his eye. Ron, however, was to be working with Hermione Granger. It was hard to tell whether Ron or Hermione was angrier about this.

“Now, don’t forget the nice wrist movement we’ve been practicing!” Flitwick squeaked, perched on top of his pile of books as usual. “Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too—never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said ‘s’ instead of ‘f’ and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest.”

It was very difficult. Harry and Draco swished and flicked, but the feather they were supposed to be sending skyward just lay on the desktop. Harry glanced at Draco and saw that he was getting very impatience. “Stupid spell,” he grumbled. He moved his wand and said, “ _Wingdardium Leviosa!_ ” The feather didn’t move, but instead, miraculously, sparked on fire!

Draco gave a small sound of fright, jumping upwards, knocking his glasses off as Harry leaned over to put the fire out with his hat. Draco was grumbling to himself as he bent to pick up his glasses. Harry giggled and leaned in to whisper, “You’re saying it wrong Draco, it’s ‘Wingardium’ not ‘Wingdardium.’”

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Draco muttered moving up. Harry just giggled and helped Draco adjust his classes. Harry looked at Ron, who wasn’t fairing any better.

“Wingardium Leviosa!” he shouted, waving his long arms like a windmill.

“You’re saying it wrong,” Harry heard Hermione snap. “It’s Wing- _gar_ -dium Levi- _o_ -sa, make the ‘gar’ nice and long.”

“You do it, then, if you’re so clever,” Ron snarled.

Hermione rolled up her sleeves, flicked her wand, and said, “Wingardium Leviosa!”

Their feather rose off the desk and hovered about four feet above their heads.

“Oh, well done!” Professor Flitwick cried, clapping. “Everyone see here, Miss Granger’s done it!”

Ron was in a very bad mood by the end of the class. “It’s no wonder no one can stand her,” he said to Harry and Draco as they pushed their way into the crowded corridor, Blaise following them, “she’s a nightmare, honestly.”

Someone knocked into Harry as they hurried past him. It was Hermione. Harry caught a glimpse of her face—and was startled to see that she was in tears.

“I think she heard you.”

“So? She must have noticed she has no friends,” Ron said, but he looked a bit uncomfortable. Draco sighed and shook his head. “You’re hopeless Weasley,” he said.

“Yeah, you are,” Blaise nodded he looked at Harry and said, “I think you should keep from kissing him for a week or so.”

“No! You can’t do that,” Ron said, looking drastically between Harry and Blaise. “Harry, you’re not going to do that are you?”

Harry just shrugged. Hermione didn’t turn up for the next class and wasn’t seen all afternoon. On their way down to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast, Harry and Ron overheard Parvati Patil telling her friend Lavender that Hermione was crying in the girls’ bathroom and wanted to be left alone. Ron looked still more awkward at this, but a moment later they had entered the Great Hall, where the Halloween decorations put Hermione out of their minds.

A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term feast.

“Look, if it really makes you bad, I’ll make you feel better later,” Harry whispered in Ron’s ear.

“What’s this? The boyfriends talking love to each other?” Fred smirked from across of them in a loud voice. “Heaven knows what they’re teaching kids these days if they’re dating this early. What will Mum think of Ron…”

“What is Ron doing?” Percy asked, looking down at them from his seat.

“He’s dating Harry Potter, Perc,” Fred called out.

“Right snog sessions these two are getting,” George said. Percy looked absolutely scandalized. “Ron that’s disgus—”

He was interrupted by Professor Quirrell who sprinted into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. “Troll! In the dungeon! Troll in the dungeon—thought you ought to know.”

He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.

There was an uproar. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore’s wand to bring silence. “Prefects,” he rumbled, “lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!”

Percy was in his element. “Follow me! Stick together, first years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders!”

“How could a troll get in?” Harry asked as they climbed the stairs, ‘They’re one of the stupidest creatures in the world.”

“Don’t know, maybe Peeves thinks this is a Halloween joke?” Ron said.

They passed different groups of people hurrying in different directions. As they jostled their way through a group of confused Hufflepuffs, Harry grabbed Ron’s arm. “Hermione! She doesn’t know,” he said.

Ron bit his lip. “Oh, all right,” he snapped. “But Percy’d better not see us.”

“Trust me, I know how to hide,” Harry said. He pulled Ron with him as they ducked and joined the group of Hufflepuffs going the other way. They hurried to the girls’ bathroom, Harry never letting go of Ron’s arm. They had just turned the corner when they heard quick footsteps behind them. “Hide!” Harry said and he pulled Ron behind a large stone griffon. They waited and peered around it, only to see Snape crossing the corridor and disappearing from view.

“What is he doing?” Harry whispered. “Why isn’t he down in the dungeon with the other teachers?”

“Search me.”

Quickly as possible, the two crept along the next corridor after Snape’s fading footsteps. “He’s heading toward the third floor,” Ron said.

Harry pulled Ron close, “Can you smell something?” It was a foul stench like a mixture of old socks and the kind of public toilets nobody cleans. “It’s the troll,” he said. They looked around and saw at the end of a passage to the left a twelve foot tall, granite-skin troll with a great lumpy body. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.

The troll stopped next to a doorway and peered inside. It waggled its long ears, making up its tiny mind, then slouched slowly into the room. Harry crept after it immediately.

“Harry! Harry come back here! _Malfoy!_ ” Ron hissed before following Harry.

“It’s the girls’ bathroom!” Harry yelled when he got near it. He ran inside, Ron following. There was a loud scream. Hermione was shrinking against the wall opposite, looking as if she was about to faint. The troll was advancing on her, knocking the sinks off the walls is it went.

“Confuse it!” Harry yelled to Ron and, seizing a tap, he threw it as hard as he could against the wall. The troll stopped a few feet from Hermione. It lumbered around, blinking stupidly, to see what had made the noise. Its mean little eyes saw Harry  and made for him, its club swinging wildly.

“Oy, pea-brain!” Ron yelled from the other side. He threw a pipe at it. The troll didn’t seem to notice the pipe hitting its shoulder, but it heard the yell and paused again, turning its ugly snout toward Ron instead, giving Harry time to run around it.

“Come on! Run!” He said to Hermione, trying to pull her toward the door, but she couldn’t move, she was still flat against the wall, her mouth open with terror. He looked at the troll, is club raised high in the air as it advanced toward Ron. Acting through instinct, Harry quickly pulled out his wand and, without thinking, yelled, “ _Wingardium Leviosa!_ ”

The troll’s hand came down at Ron but it was empty; the club flying to the air. It turned over and began to drop, smacking on the troll’s head with a sickening crack. The troll swayed on the spot and then fell flat on its face, with a thud that made the whole room tremble.

“Harry!” Ron yelled. He ran towards him and Hermione and wrapped his arms around the smaller boy, kissing him. Harry’s eyes widen in shock before kissing Ron back for a quick moment. They were all shaking and out of breath. It was Hermione who spoke first.

“Is it… is it dead?”

“I don’t think so,” Harry said. He and Ron moved away from each other just as a sudden slamming and loud footsteps made them look up. Professor McGonagall had come bursting into the room, followed closely by Snape, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper, and sat quickly down on a toilet, clutching his heart.

Snape bent over the troll. Professor McGonagall was looking at Ron and Harry. Harry had never seen her look so angry. Her lips were white.

“What on earth were you thinking of?” Professor McGonagall said, with cold fury in her voice. “You’re lucky you weren’t killed. Why aren’t you in your domirtory?”

Snape gave Harry a swift, piercing look. Harry looked at the floor.

Then a small voice came out of the shadows, “Please Professor, they were looking for me.”

“Miss Granger!”

“I went looking for the troll because—I thought I could deal with it on my own—you know, because I’ve read all about them.”

Ron dropped his jaw. Hermione Granger was telling a lie to a teacher? “If they hadn’t found me, I’d be dead now. Ron distracted it while Harry knocked it out with its own club. They didn’t have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived.”

Harry and Ron tried to look as though this story wasn’t new to them.

“Well—in that case…” Professor McGonagall said, staring at the three of them, “Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?”

Hermione hung her head.

“Miss Granger, five points from Gryffindor,” Professor McGonagall said. “I’m very disappointed in you. If you’re not hurt at all, you’d better get off to Gryffindor tower.” Hermione left. Professor McGonagall turned to Harry and Ron. “Well, I still say you were lucky, but not many first years could have taken on a fully grown troll and live to tell the tale. Mr. Weasley, Mr. Malfoy… you each win Gryffindor five points. Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go.”

They hurried out of the chamber and didn’t speak at all until they had climbed two floors up. “We should have gotten more than ten points,” Ron grumbled.

“Five, you mean, she’s taken off Hermione’s,” Harry said. “Come on,” he pulled Ron towards him and kissed him again. “Just be happy you’re alive, alright?”

“Fine… but can I have more kisses?” Ron asked with the same goofy grin. Harry smiled and said, “All you can take.”

They walked into the Gryffindor common room which was packed and noisy. Everyone was eating the food that had been sent up. Hermione, however, stood alone by the door, waiting for them. There was a very embarrassing pause. Then, none of them looking at each other, they all said “Thanks,” and hurried off to get plates.

But from that moment on, Hermione Granger became their friend. There are some things you can’t share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve foot mountain troll is one of them.

Unfortunately, Harry did not think of Draco’s or Blaise’s rage the next day.

“You stupid idiots!” Blaise yelled at Harry and Ron, “What were you thinking?”

“They weren’t! You just had to live up to your Gryffindor-ness, didn’t you Harry?” Draco yelled. “You’re lucky I didn’t tell Mother about this, let alone father!”

The two Gryffindors hung their heads in shame. “I was just trying to help Hermione,” Harry said. “The troll was going to kill her—”

“And it could have killed you,” Draco yelled. “Honestly Harry what was going through your mind! Oh wait, I know: Nothing! And you Ron! You’re supposed to keep him safe, not go running after danger with him! Honestly what good—”

“We just did it, okay?” Harry yelled back. “We did it, we saved Hermione, we’re friends now that’s it. No one’s hurt, we got points removed, we got points added. It’s a done deal.”

“No it isn’t,” Blaise said. “Harry you could have seriously gotten hurt, you too Ron.” He pulled both boys to him and, much to Harry’s surprise, kissed them both. “You really made us worried,” he whispered. “Please don’t do that again.”

“Blaise…” Ron blushed. The Italian Slytherin kissed them both again and turned to Draco. The blond sighed and pulled the Gryffindors towards him, kissing them both. He had to lean to get Ron’s lips, but he got them just the same. Although, he did naturally kissed Harry for a longer time. The four now made up, they lounged around for the rest of the first of November, a goofy, huge smile never leaving Ron’s face as they played and kissed each other.

 

Harry’s first Quidditch match was on Sunday. That morning he was sitting at the Gryffindor table looking around; his nerves was making him not very hungry as he felt very agitated. His eyes fell onto the staff table and saw something very weird: Snape’s leg was bleeding, it looked as if he had a large wound on it. “What’s wrong with Snape’s leg?” he said to Ron and Hermione, pointing it out.

“Who knows,” Ron said.

“You don’t think—he must have let the troll in,” Harry gasped. “It must have been a distraction so he could get past that dog! He’s after whatever it’s guarding!”

Hermione’s eyes were wide.

“No—he wouldn’t,” she said. “I know he’s not very nice, but he wouldn’t try and steal something Dumbledore was keeping safe.”

“Honestly, Hermione, you think all teachers are saints or something,” Ron snapped. “I’m with Harry. I wouldn’t put anything past Snape. But what’s he after? What’s that dog guarding?”

“I don’t know… but whatever it is, must be dangerous,” Harry said.

By eleven o’clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be raised high in the air, but it was difficult to see what was going on. In the locker room, Harry and the rest of the team were changing into their scarlet Quidditch robes (Slytherin would be playing in green).

“Think Ron will cheer for his brothers more, or his boyfriend?” Fred asked George out loud.

“We’re not boyfriends,” Harry insisted.

“I don’t know… that kissing looked pretty serious,” George hummed.

Oliver Wood cleared his throat. “We can talk about boyfriends later. Men,”

“And women,” said Chaser Angelina Johnson.

“And women,” Wood agreed. “This is it.”

“The big one,” Fred said.

“The one we’ve all been waiting for,” George said.

“We know Oliver’s speech by heart,” Fred told Harry, “we were on the team last year.”

“Shut up you two!” Oliver said. “This is the best team Gryffindor’s had in years. We’re going to win, I can feel it!” He glared at them all as if to say, “Or else.”

“Right. It’s time. Good luck, all of you. And Harry, don’t be distracted by your boyfriend,” he added with a wink. Fred and George laughed as the youngest team member blushed. They walked out of the locker room.

Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the field waiting for the two teams, her broom in her hand. Harry saw Flint and did his best to keep a straight face. For now they were enemies on the battlefield!

“Now, I want a nice fair game, from all of you,” Madam Hooch said, once they were all gathered around her. Harry noticed that she was looking at Flint when she said it. “Mount your brooms.”

Harry clambered onto his Nimbus Two Thousand. Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle and they all blasted into the air, Harry rising higher than anyone else.

“And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor—what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too—”

“JORDAN!”

“Sorry, Professor.”

The Weasley twins’ friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for the match, closely watched by Professor McGonagall.

“And she’s really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinner, a good find of Oliver Wood’s last year only a reserve—back to Johnson and—no, the Slytherin have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes—Flint flying like an eagle up there—he’s going to sc-no, stopped by an excellent move by Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle—that’s Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and—OUCH—that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger—Quaffle taken by the Slytherins—that’s Adrian Pucey speeding off towards the goal busts, but he’s blocked by a second Bludger sent by a Weasley—Gryffindor in possession, a clear field ahead and off Katie goes—she’s really flying—dodges—watch out—SHE SCORES! GRYFFINDOR SCORES!”

Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins. Harry flew around and looked to see Hagrid had joined Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor stands. He kept over the game, eyes squinting as he looked for the Snitch. This was part of Wood’s plan, “Keep out of the way until you catch sight of the Snitch, “Wood had said. “We don’t want you attacked before you have to be.”

He thought he saw a flash of gold, but it turned out to be one of the Weasley’s wristwatch, and once a Bludger decided to come pelting his way, more like a cannonball than anything, but Harry dodged it and Fred Weasley came chasing after it.

“Look out Harry!” he had time to yell, as he beat the Bludger furiously towards Marcus Flint. Harry saw a flash of gold. In a great rush of excitement he dived downward after the streak of gold. Slytherin Seeker Terrance Higgs had seen it, too. “Malfoy—I mean Potter—I mean—HARRY SEES THE SNITCH!”

They were neck to neck. Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in midair to watch. He was faster than Higgs—he could see the little round ball, wings fluttering, darting up ahead—he put on an extra spurt of speed—

WHAM! A roar of rage echoed from the Gryffindors below—two Bludgers slammed into Harry, spinning him off course. Harry hanged on for dear life.

In the confusion the Snitch was lost once more. Harry felt soar, but he shook it off, flying into the air again when he gained control. Harry was gliding in the air when it happened. His broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a split second, he thought he was going to fall. He gripped the broom tightly with both his hands and knees. He’d never felt anything like that. It was like the broom had a mind of its own, lurching and bucking like an angry bull as it tried to throw Harry off. The broom was completely out of his control, he tried to turn it but it just wouldn’t listen.

No one seemed to have noticed that Harry’s broom was behaving strangely. It was carrying him slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went.

“Dunno what Harry think he’s doing,” Hagrid mumbled in the stands. He stared through his binoculars. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say he lost control of his broom.”

“Can something happen when the Bludgers hit him?” Ron asked.

“Can’t have,” Hagrid said. “Can’t nothing interfere with a broomstick except powerful Dark Magic.”

At these words Hermione seized Hagrid’s binoculars, but instead of looking up at Harry, she started looking frantically at the crowd.

“What are you doing?” Ron demanded.

“I knew it,” Hermione gasped. “Snape—look!”

Ron looked and saw Snape standing in the middle of the stands opposite of them. He had his eyes fixed on Harry and was muttering nonstop under his breath.

“He’s jinxing the broom!” Ron said. “What should we do?”

“Leave it to me!”

Hermione disappeared before Ron could say anything. She fought her way across to the stand where Snape stood, and was now racing along the row behind him, running into Draco. “Move it Granger!” Draco hissed as he took out his wand.

“Harry’s in trouble—”

“I know, now shut it,” Draco said. They both pointed their wands and whispered a few words. Bright blue flames shot from their wands and onto the hem of Snape’s robes. It took perhaps thirty seconds for Snape to realize that he was on fire. A sudden yelp told them they’ve done their job. Hermione scooped the fire into a little glass jar and the two ran off back to their seats without a word.

It was enough. Up in the air, Harry was suddenly able to clamber back on to his broom. He started speeding toward the ground and moved his hand before anyone noticed. “I’ve got it! I’ve got the Snitch!” he yelled, holding the golden ball up in his fist. Lee Jorden began to shout happily when he noticed Harry and the Snitch. Madam Hooch blew her whistle and the next moment Harry knew, he was swarmed with the rest of the Gryffindor Team.

“Three cheers for Harry and his boyfriend!” Fred yelled.

“Harry and his boyfriend brought us this victory!” George laughed.

Harry didn’t know how he did it, but somehow, he found himself back at Hagrid’s hut drinking tea with Hermione, Ron, and Draco.

“It was Snape,” Ron was explaining. “Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn’t take his eyes off you.”

“Rubbish,” Hagrid said. “Why would Snape do something like that?”

“Draco was there too,” Hermione insisted.

“I just saw some people muttering…I didn’t know who,” Draco said. But Harry decided to say, “I found out something about Snape. He tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween. It bit him. We think he was trying to steal whatever it’s guarding.”

Hagrid dropped his teapot and Draco stared at Harry in shock.

“How do you know about Fluffy?” Hagrid asked.

“Fluffy?”

“That dog has a name!” Draco said.

“Of course he does, brought him off a Greek chap I met in the pub las’ year—I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the—”

“Yes?” Harry said eagerly.

“Now, don’t ask me anymore,” Hagrid said gruffly. “That’s top secret, that is.”

“But Snape’s trying to steal it apparently,” Draco said, looking at his brother, “ _and_ he’s trying to kill my brother! That was a jinx he was casting, Hagrid. I know it.”

“I’m tellin’ yeh, yeh wrong!” Hagrid said hotly. “I don’ know why Harry’s broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn’ try an’ kill a student! Now, listen here you four—yer meddlin’ in things that don’ concern yeh. It’s dangerous. You forget that god, an’ you forget what it’s guardin’, that’s between Professor Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel—”

“Aha!” Harry said, “so there’s someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?”

Hagrid looked furious with himself. “I shouldn’t hav’ told yeh that.”

When they left Draco kept to Harry and said, “When were you going to tell me about Snape?”

“What about him? About his leg? I just found out this morning,” Harry said. He looked at his brother and smiled, “So, what do you think about my broom?”

“Don’t change the subject, Harry,” Draco said. “Hagrid is right, you are walking into something dangerous, I can feel it. That dog—Fluffy—whatever Snape wants… Harry, you just have to stop.”

“But Draco, whatever it is, it must be dangerous!” Harry said.

“So? We’re elven Harry! There’s nothing we can do,” Draco said. “Besides, there is no way I can see Snape or anyone getting through that dog and whatever Dumbledore and that Nicolas Flamel guy is hiding.” He frowned and muttered to himself, “Why does that sound familiar?”

“What if…” Harry said slowly, “what if… Snape is not trying to get whatever’s hidden for himself?”

“Then who would he be getting it for?”

“My grandfather,” Harry said. Draco stopped and stared at Harry. Ron and Hermione continued on, not knowing that the two brothers stopped.

“Harry…”

“It’s true though, whatever this thing is, my grandfather would be after it,” Harry said loudly. Ron and Hermione stopped and turned to the two.

“Harry? What’s going on?” Ron asked.

“He’s thinking of stupid things,” Draco said. “Harry! He’s dead; your grandfather is dead.”

“Grandfather?” Ron asked.

“I don’t know though,” Harry frowned. “He was the most powerful wizard in recent history Draco… I don’t think he would have died so easily.”

“Are you listening to yourself? You’re sounding like a loon, Harry,” Draco argued.

“Wait, who’s grandfather? Who’s dead? I’m confused,” Ron said.

“Harry? Who are you talking about?” Hermione asked hesitantly. Harry looked at his friends and thought for a moment.

“My grandfather,” Harry said. “My dad’s dad… is You-Know-Who. He was adopted by the Potters.”

“No…” Ron said. “There’s no way…”

“Harry, that can’t be true,” Hermione said. “Is it?”

“It is,” Harry said, nodding. “My godfather told me years ago.

“But… You-Know-Who is gone,” Hermione said. “Harry he disappeared on the day you got your scar.”

“Exactly! Granger’s right,” Draco said. “Your grandfather is good as dead, Harry! There is no way that Snape would get whatever that dog is hiding for him.”

“He’s not dead, Hermione and everyone just said that he disappeared,” Harry argued. “For all we know he can still be out there.”

“Harry, look at me,” Draco said. He grabbed Harry’s head and turned so they were staring at each other, their foreheads touching. Draco’s glasses slid down his nose and he looked above it at his brother. “Your. Grandfather. Is. Dead. D-E-A-D Dead. He is not coming back, okay? Whatever Snape is doing, he’s doing for himself. Get your grandfather out of your mind.”

But he couldn’t. When Harry went to bed that night he had a very strange dream. In it was a huge, towering black figure hidden in shadows. He and Harry were the only two people in a room that Harry couldn’t make out. The figure stared at him, Harry could barely make out red eyes and pale, ghostly skin. Neither Harry nor the figure moved or talked. They just stood in the indescribable room, staring at each other. A third figure appeared between them. He was tall with pale skin, brown eyes, and a very handsome face wearing glasses.

Harry spoke for the first time, “Dad?”

The figure turned towards Harry and smiled. He took a step towards Harry before falling, landing lifeless by Harry’s feet. “Dad? Dad!” Harry cried out. He fell to his knees and shook the body, but his father didn’t answer. Harry glared up at the silent figure, “Grandfather, why did you kill my dad?” he asked.

Everything went to black.

Harry woke up with his scar hurting, and tears straining down his eyes.


	17. Christmas at Hogwarts

**The Seventeenth Chapter**

**Christmas at Hogwarts**

Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Professor Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban. The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nurse back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again. One of these owls had a letter for Harry from Mr. Malfoy.

_Harry,_

_Even though we have our differences, I wish to remind you that I am still your father contrary to what you may believe or think. That said, I will be expecting both you and Draco home during the holidays in order to perform your duties as Malfoys for our Yule-time Ball. Though your mother believes that you are too young, I on the other hand believe that it is the perfect time for both you and Draco to start thinking of potential spouses. After all, your mother and I have meet at a similar gathering when we were eleven, and matched perfectly by our fathers. Do not disappoint me Harry._

_Your Father,_

_Lucius Malfoy_

Harry bit his lip. He wasn’t thinking of going back to Malfoy Manor for the holidays. Though he wanted to see Mrs. Malfoy and Sirius again, he just couldn’t stand the thought of being with Mr. Malfoy after he had embarrassed him on the first day of school with that Howler. An embarrassment that he had yet to apologize for. Making up his mind, he turned to Hermione and asked to borrow a quill and parchment. In the best handwriting he could muster, he wrote:

_Father,_

_I am sorry to say that I have decided to stay at Hogwarts during the holiday with the Weasleys. I do not feel safe or welcomed home because of you, father. I still remember the Howler you’ve sent me and the fact that you never apologized for it makes me feel really bad. I’m sorry but I don’t want to be around you for now._

_Please tell Mum I love her very much? And that I’m very sorry._

_Sorry,_

_Harry Malfoy_

Harry hoped that him using just the Malfoy surname would lessen the blow Mr. Malfoy will feel. When he told Draco about his decision, Harry was immensely relieved to see that his brother agreed with him, both signing to stay at the castle for the holidays.

When the two exited Potions they found a large fir tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet sticking out at the bottom and a loud puffing sound told them that Hagrid was behind it.

“Hi Hagrid, want any help?” Ron asked, sticking his head through the branches.

“Nah, I’m all right, thanks, Ron.”

They followed Hagrid into the Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were busy with Christmas decorations. “Ah Hagrid, the last tree—put it in the far corner, would you?”

The hall looked spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls, and no less than twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparking with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles.

“How many days you got let until yer holidays?” Hagrid asked.

“Just one,” Hermione said. “And that reminds me—Harry, Ron, we’ve got half an hour before lunch, we should be in the library.”

“Oh yeah, you’re right,” Ron said, tearing his eyes away from Professor Flitwick, who had golden bubbles blossoming from his wand.

“Why are you going to the library?” Draco asked.

“Oh, ever since Hagrid mentioned Nicolas Flamel, we’ve been trying to find out who he is,” Harry said happily.

“You what?” Hagrid and Draco said at the same time. “Listen here—I’ve told yeh—drop it. It’s nothin’ to you what that dog’s guardin’.”

“We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that’s all,” Hermione said.

“Unless you’d like to tell us and save us the trouble?” Harry added. “We must’ve been through hundreds of books already and we can’t find him anywhere—just give us a hint—I know I’ve read his name somewhere.”

“Harry,” Draco groaned. “I told you to quit it!”

“We’re not going to do that,” Ron said, “We’ll just find it him ourselves then.” And they left Hagrid looking disgruntled and hurried off to the library. Draco followed them.

“Harry,” Draco sighed. “You honestly can’t still be thinking of—”

“We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is Draco, honest,” Harry told his brother. The blond gave Harry a glare but shook his head. “Fine… I’ll help.”

They have indeed been searching books for Flamel’s name ever since Hagrid had let it slip, because how else were they going to find out what Snape was trying to steal? The trouble was, it was very hard to know where to begin, not knowing what Flamel might have done to get himself into a book. Harry felt like they have read hundreds of books and found nothing. Hermione took out a list of subjects and titles she had decided to search while Ron strode off down a row of books and started pulling them off the shelves at random. Draco just sat at a table, reading, while Harry wandered over to the Restricted Section. He wondered if Flamel was in there, but unfortunately they needed a permission slip to get into the section, and he knew that they would never get one.

At the end of the day Hermione turned to them and said, “You two will keep looking while I’m away, won’t you? And send me an owl if you find anything.”

“And you could ask your parents if they know who Flamel is,” Ron said. “It’d be safe to ask them.”

“Very safe, as they’re both dentists,” Hermione said.

 

Once the holidays had started, Ron, Draco, and Harry were having too good a time to think much about Flamel. They had the dormitory to themselves and the common room was far emptier than usual, so they were able to get the good armchairs by the fire. They sat by the hour eating anything they could spear on a toasting fork—bread, English muffins, marshmallows—and plotting ways of getting students they didn’t like expelled, which were fun to talk about even if they wouldn’t work. Since Draco was the only Slytherin staying at the castle, Harry and Draco went to Professor McGonagall to see if the brothers would be allowed to stay in the Gryffindor common room, which she gracefully allowed.

Ron started teaching the Malfoys wizard’s chess. This was exactly like Muggle chess except that the figures were alive, which made it a lot like directing troops in battle. Ron’s set was very old and battered, it was his grandfather’s, however that didn’t prove a drawback at all as Ron knew them so well he never had trouble getting them to do what he wanted.

Draco loved the commanding aspect of the game, he and Harry were borrowing Seamus Finnigan’s set, and Draco had to give his orders harshly and repeatedly in order for them to move. But the harsher he said his commands, the wider his smile appeared to be.

On Christmas day the twins woke early to see two separate piles of presents at the end of their bed.

“Merry Christmas,” Ron said sleepily as Harry and Draco scrambled out of Harry’s bed and pulled on their bathrobes.

“You, too,” Harry said. Draco went immediately for the presents and pulled out two letters. “Harry, Mother’s written to us,” he said giving Harry his letter.

The small boy just nodded and read it.

_Harry,_

_Merry Christmas. I feel guilty and sadden that you and your brother wouldn’t come and visit for Christmas Harry. This strife between you and your father is affecting more than the two of you. I wish that you both will drop this silliness, but I know neither of you will. Your father never admits his faults, and you are too stubborn for your own good. You both should just drop it. I will see you and Draco at the end of the school year then._

_Love,_

_Your Mother_

Harry frowned at the letter. Was Mrs. Malfoy really blaming him as well when it was Mr. Malfoy’s fault? He threw the letter away and picked up the top parcel on his pile. It was wrapped in thick brown paper and scrawled across it was To Harry, from Hagrid. Inside was a roughly cut wooden flute. Hagrid had obviously whittled it himself. Harry blew it—it sounded a bit like an owl.

The second was a lumpy parcel. “Oh no,” Ron groaned. “She made you a Weasley sweater.”

Harry had torn open the parcel to find a thick, hand-knitted sweater in emerald green and a large box of homemade fudge. He looked at Draco to see that he had gotten a similar sweater that was silver.

“Every year she makes us a sweater,” Ron said, unwrapping his own, “and mine’s _always_ maroon.”

“That’s very nice of her,” Draco said. He looked at Harry, who nodded. Their mother never made anything for them, only buy.

Harry’s next presents also contained candy—a large box of Chocolate Frogs from Hermione and a box of chocolate wands from Blaise with a small note that read _Kisses! Happy Christmas!_

Sirius sent them both a fancy-looking robe with miniature werewolves on them, Harry’s was wrapped around a broomstick-repair kit, and their parents both gave them a new set of robes.

This only left one parcel. Harry picked it up and felt it. It was very light. He unwrapped it. Something fluid and silvery gray went slithering to the floor where it lay in gleaming folds, Ron and Draco gasped.

“It’s an Invisibility Cloak!” Draco said. “Who sent it?”

Harry looked around to see that in their excitement over the cloak, a note has drifted to the ground. Picking it up, he read: _Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you._

_Use it well._

There was no signature. Harry stared at the note. Did the cloak really belonged to his father? Before he could say or think anything else, the dormitory door was flung open and Fred and George Weasley bounded in. Harry stuffed the cloak quickly out of sight. He didn’t feel like sharing it with anyone else yet.

“Merry Christmas!”

“Hey, look—the little Malfoys got Weasley sweaters, too!”

“Of course Harry did, he is Ron’s boyfriend after all,” Fred nodded. They were wearing blue sweaters with a large yellow F on it, the other a G. “She must obviously be thinking they’re part of the family already—without any wedding bells or anything!”

“Shame on you Ron, this is a sign that you need to marry Harry immediately,” George said, he took Harry’s emerald sweater and shoved it onto the boy. “There you go! Looks like a regular Weasley now!”

“You can join the family too Draco! Though I don’t know who’ll you’ll marry…”

“Certainly not Bill.”

“Or Charlie.”

“Or Percy.”

“Ginny’s out of bounds.”

“Ron’s taken.”

“I guess he could have you Gred.”

“Or maybe you Forge.”

“We can always ask him.”

They turned to Draco. “So which is it Draco? Forge or Gred?” they asked.

Draco stared at them, completely lost. “I’m going to stick to my Harry, thank you very much,” he said, putting on his own sweater.

“What’s all this noise?”

Percy stuck his head through the door, looking disapproving. He had clearly gotten halfway through unwrapping his presents as he, too, carried a lumpy sweater over his arm, which Fred seized.

“P for prefect! Get it on, Percy, come on, we’re all wearing ours, even Harry and Draco got one!”

“I—don’t—want—” Percy said thickly, as the twins forced the sweater over his head, knocking his glasses askew.

“And you’re not sitting with the prefects today, either,” George said. “Christmas is a time for family! All the Weasleys together!” He made a broad swiping motion to his arm to include Harry and Draco. “Harry Weasley! And Draco Weasley! Boyfriends of Ron and… uhh we haven’t decided yet.”

“We’re not boyfriends, “Ron argued but George shook his head. “No, no, can’t walk out of this little brother.”

“George, we really aren’t—” Harry’s protest was lost on the twins’ ears as they frog-marched Percy out of the room, his arms pinned to his side by his sweater. Harry sighed and looked at Ron and Draco apologetically.

Harry had never had such a Christmas dinner before. A hundred fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes, platters of chipolatas; tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce—and stacks of wizards crackers every few feet along the table. Harry pulled a wizard cracker with Fred and it went off like a cannon and engulfed them all in a cloud of blue smoke, while from the inside exploded a rear admiral’s hat and several live, white mice.

Flaming Christmas puddings followed the turkey. Percy nearly broke his teeth on a silver sickle embedded in his slice. Harry watched Hagrid getting redder and redder in the face as he called for more wine, finally kissing Professor McGonagall on the cheek, who, to Harry’s amazement, giggled and blushed, her top hat lopsided. Fred and George fed bite after bite of a towering cake to Draco, both making exaggerate, flirtatious faces as they shoved their forks in Draco’s mouth.

When Harry and Draco finally left the table, they were laden down with a stack of things out of the crackers, including a pack of nonexplodable luminous balloons, a Grow-Your-Own-Warts and their own new wizard chess sets.

The Malfoy boys and Weasleys spent a happy afternoon having a furious snowball fight on the grounds. Then, cold, wet, and gasping for breath, they returned to the fire in the Gryffindor common room where Harry and Draco broke their new chess sets by losing spectacularly to Ron numerous times.

After a meal of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christmas cake, everyone felt too full and sleepy to do much before bed except sit and watch Percy chase Fred and George all over Gryffindor tower because the two had stolen his prefect’s badge. Harry leaned against Draco’s shoulder and kissed his cheek. “Do you regret not going home?” he whispered.

“No, not really… should I feel bad?” Harry asked.

“You shouldn’t,” Draco said swinging his arm around Harry. It had been Harry’s best Christmas day ever. There wasn’t anyone bugging him about traditions, or how to act. Yet something had been nagging at the back of his mind all day. Not until he climbed into bed with Draco was he free to think about it: the invisibility cloak and whoever had sent it.

Ron and Draco were fast asleep. Harry leaned over his bed and pulled the cloak out from under it. Carefully, he slipped out of the bed and wrapped the cloak around his shoulders, looking down amazed to see that his body has disappeared! Smirking to himself, he pulled the cloak fully on him. Completely invisible, it would be easy to look into the Restricted Section for Nicolas Flamel!

He crept out of the dormitory, down the stairs, across the common room, and climbed through the portrait hole. He set off towards the library, drawing the invisibility cloak tight around him as he walked.

The library was pitch-black and very eerie. Harry lit a lamp to see his way along the rows of books. The lamp looked as if it was floating along in midair, and even though Harry could feel his arm supporting it, the sight gave him the creeps.

The Restricted Section was right at the back of the library. Stepping over the rope that separated these books from the rest, he held up the lamp to read the titles.

They didn’t tell him much. Their peeling, faded gold letters spelled words in languages Harry couldn’t understand. One book had a dark stain on it that looked horribly like blood. Deciding that starting anywhere would be best, he looked along the bottom shelf for an interesting looking book. A large black and silver volume caught his eye. He set the lamp carefully down on the floor and pulled the book out with difficulty. It fell open as it fell on the ground.

A piercing, bloodcurdling shriek split the silence—the book was screaming! Harry snapped it shut, but the shriek went on and on, one high, unbroken earsplitting note. He stumbled backward and knocked over his lamp, which went out at once. Panicking, he heard footsteps coming down the corridor outside—stuffing the book back on the shelf, he ran for it. He passed Filch in the doorway; Filch’s pale, wild eyes looking straight through him, and Harry slipped under Filch’s outstretched arm and streaked off up the corridor, the book’s shrieks still ringing in his ears.

He came to a sudden halt in front of a tall suit of armor. He had been so busy getting away from the library, he hadn’t paid attention to where he was going. A door stood ajar to his left, he slipped into it when he heard footsteps, and later Snape’s voice saying, “The Restriction Section? Well, they can’t be far, we’ll catch them.”

Harry stood still against the wall next to the room, his eyes squeezed shut as he listened to the fading footsteps. When he was certain that they were gone, Harry opened his eyes and looked around the room he took refuge in.

It looked like an unused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls, and there was an unturned wastepaper basket—but propped against the wall facing him was something that did not belong in a classroom.

It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._

His panic now fading in the silence, he moved nearer to the mirror, wanting to look at himself but see no reflection again. He stepped in front of it.

He had to clap his hands to his mouth to stop himself from screaming. He whirled around. His heart was pounding far more furiously than when the book had screamed—for he had seen not only himself in the mirror, but a whole crowd of people standing right behind him.

But the room was empty. Breathing very fast, he turned slowly back to the mirror.

There he was, reflected in it, white and scared-looking, and there, reflected behind him, were at least ten others. Harry looked over his shoulder—but still, no one was there. A woman standing right behind his reflection was smiling at him and waving. He reached out a hand and felt the air behind him. She was a very pretty woman. She had dark red hair and her eyes—her eyes are just line mine, Harry thought, edging a little closer to the glass. Bright green—exactly the same shape, but then he noticed that she was crying; smiling, but crying at the same time. Next to her was a man, a tall, thin, black-haired man with very untidy hair. He looked exactly like Harry. And Sirius was there too! Sirius had his arm around the man and the three adults smiled and waved at him.

“Mum? Dad?” Harry whispered. “Sirius?”

And slowly Harry looked into the faces of the other people in the mirror, and saw other pairs of green eyes like his, other noses like his. There was a tall handsome man with steely brown eyes who looked exactly like another man; and a small, desperate-looking woman hunched over.

Harry felt a powerful kind of ache inside him, half joy, half-terrible sadness. How long he stood there, he didn’t know. The reflections did not fade and he looked and looked until a distant noise  brought him back to his senses. He couldn’t stay here, he had to find his way back to bed. “I’ll be back,” he whispered, looking at his mother’s and father’s faces.

 

“You could have woken us up,” Ron said crossly.

“I want to meet your birth parents, too,” Draco said.

“You can come tonight, I’m going back. I want to show you two the mirror,” Harry said.

“I’ll like to see your mum and dad,” Ron said eagerly.

“And I want to see all the Weasleys, you’ll be able to show us everyone,” Harry said.

“You can see them any old time,” Ron shrugged. “Besides you two already know what Charlie and Bill look like.”

It took Harry some time to retrace his steps later that night. The three boys hid under the invisibility cloak, so they had to walk much more slowly. It took Harry a long time to find the suit of armor again and the door next to it. They pushed open the door, harry dropped the cloak from around his shoulders, and ran to the mirror.

There they were. His mother and father and Sirius beaming at the sight of him.

“See?” Harry whispered.

“I can’t see anything.”

“Me neither.”

“Maybe if you stand directly in front of the mirror,” Harry said. He moved out of the way and Ron stood in front of the mirror, he couldn’t see his family anymore. Just Ron in his paisley pajamas.

Ron, though, was staring transfixed at his image. “Look at me!” he said. “I’m alone—I look different—I look older—and I’m head boy!”

“What?”

“I am—I’m wearing the badge like Bill used to—and I’m holding the house cup and the Quidditch cup—I’m Quidditch captain too!”

Ron tore his eyes away from this splendid sight to look excitedly at Harry. Draco pushed him roughly out of the way and stared into the mirror. “I’m older too… much older… it’s you and me Harry! Don’t see anyone else anywhere. Think this shows the future?” he asked turning to Harry.

“How can it? My parents are dead,” Harry said. “Let me have another look—”

“You had it all to yourself last night, it’s Ron’s and my turn,” Draco said.

“It’s only you and me, I want to see my birth parents!”

“Don’t you push—”

A sudden noise outside in the corridor put an end in their little discussion. They hadn’t realized how loudly they had been talking. “Quick!”

Ron threw the cloak back over them as the luminous eyes of Mrs. Norris came round the door. The three stood quite still, all wondering if the cloak worked on cats. After what seemed an age, she turned and left.

“This is dangerous… let’s head back,” Draco said.

“Yeah, she might have gone for Filch,” Ron said, and they pulled Harry out of the room.

The third night Harry went alone after Draco and Ron fell asleep, both boys agreeing that it was dangerous to go back there. Harry found his way easily to the room with the mirror. And there was his parents and Sirius smiling at him again, and his grandfather nodding happily. Harry couldn’t help but stare at him, is that what Voldemort looks like? He sat down on the floor in front of the mirror. There was nothing to stop him from staying here all night with his family. Nothing at all.

Except—

“So, back again, Harry?”

Harry felt as though his insides had turned to ice. He looked behind him. Sitting on one of the desks by the wall was none other than Dumbledore. Harry must have walked straight past him, so desperate to get to the mirror he hadn’t noticed him.

“I—I didn’t notice you sir.”

Strange how becoming invisible turns a person nearsighted,” Dumbledore said, and Harry was relieved to see that he was smiling. “So,” he said, slipping off the desk to sit on the floor with Harry, “you, like many others, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised.”

“I didn’t know it was called that.”

“But you must now know what it does?”

“It… it shows the viewer what they want?”

“That is correct Harry,” Dumbledore said. “The mirror shows a person’s deepest desire. You, who have never known your birth family despite finding a loving one in the Malfoys, see them standing around you. Ronald Weasley, who has always been overshadowed by his brothers, sees himself standing alone, the best of them all. Your brother Draco, both himself and you constantly under your father’s control, see you both free from his influence, able to do whatever you desire. However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge or truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible.

“The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you to go looking for it again. If you ever do run across it, you will not be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now, why don’t you put that admirable cloak back on and get off to bed?”

Harry stood up. “Sir—Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something?”

“Obviously, you already have. But I will permit you one more thing, however, “Dumbledore smiled.

“You know what I saw… that means you know who my grandfather is,” Harry said hesitantly. “What is his name? Will I end up like him?” He looked worried.

Dumbledore chuckled. “I was wondering when you would ask these questions. Your grandfather’s name have been lost to history, today we only know him as Lord Voldemort. However, I truly believe that you will not become like him.”

Harry looked relieved. He left the room. Harry went to bed with the same calmness that Dumbledore’s words have caused him, putting away a fear that Harry didn’t notice or knew that he had.

 

It was Draco who found the answer to Nicolas Flamel’s identity. It was after the Christmas holidays, he, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were in the library. The three Gryffindors were about to lose hope of ever finding Flamel in a library book when, during the ten minute breaks they had, Draco pulled out an enormous old book. “Nicolas Flamel!” He read out loud in excitement. “Harry! Listen!” The three crowded around Draco. He pushed the book toward Harry, who read it:

_The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Philosopher’s Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal. There have been many reports of the Philosopher’s Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera lover. Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Pernelle._

“The Philosopher’s Stone…” Draco said. “That must be what that dog is guarding. He’s a friend of Dumbledore after all, that’s what Hagrid said, so the thing that Hagrid took out of Gringotts, the thing that someone tried to steal… is this stone.” He looked at Harry and said, “Satisfied now?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Totally.”

“Good. Now forget about this and focus on other things, alright? Like your next Quidditch match?” Draco said. “I heard Snape’s refereeing that.”

“No!” Harry said, looking as if he just swallowed a fistful of mud.

“Yes. Now stop looking so horrified,” Draco sneered. “He’s fine!”

“He’s trying to steal the stone!” Harry argued.

“So you believe,” Draco said.

“Snape’s after the stone,” Ron said. “I mean why wouldn’t he! Anyone would want it!”

Draco groaned in frustration and stood up. “I’m going to be with Blaise before your craziness rubs off on me. Harry, just try and focus on the Quidditch game? I don’t’ want you to lose too quickly now.”

“As if I’ll lose!” Harry yelled at Draco as he walked away.

As if to prove a point, on the day the Quidditch match came up a couple weeks later, Harry wasn’t feeling nervous at all. His thoughts and fears about Snape seemed to vanish all in an intense desire to prove Draco wrong. He was going to win the Quidditch match against Hufflepuff and, more importantly, he will prove to Draco that Snape _is_ trying to steal the Philosopher’s Stone. The whole school came to watch the match, even Dumbledore was there, sitting in the Announcer’s box along with Lee Jordan and Professor McGonagall.

Snape blew the whistle and the two teams flew into the air. Harry kept his eyes out, being more vigilant than ever before. He ignored Snape, who seemed content with giving Gryffindor more fouls than Madam Hooch ever gave them, and kept his eyes out for the Snitch. He saw a glint of gold and made a spectacular dive, which drew gasps and cheers from the crowd. He sped straight at Snape, who turned just in time to see a streak of scarlet shoot past him, missing him by inches—the next second, Harry had pulled out of the dive, his arm raised in triumph, the Snitch clasped in his hand.

The stands erupted, it must have been a record! Harry spotted platinum hair and flew towards Draco, grinning. “See?” he yelled. “Told you!” He flew to the ground and jumped off of his broom, he couldn’t believe it! The game was over, and it was only five minutes! As Gryffindors came spilling onto the field, he saw Snape land nearby, white-faced and tight-lipped—then Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up into Dumbledore’s smiling face.

“Well done,” he said quietly, so that only Harry could hear. “Nice to see you haven’t been brooding about the mirror… been keeping busy…. Excellent….”

Snape spat bitterly on the ground.


	18. Harry Malfoy's Doubts

**The Eighteenth Chapter**

**Harry Malfoy’s Doubts**

A couple of weeks after the Quidditch match, Blaise ran up to Harry. They were done with classes for the day, and Harry missed Blaise very much, so the two walked out together into the brisk February air. Both boys were wearing scarfs wrapped tightly around their necks, and held their mitten hands as they walked along the grounds. “I’ve missed you, I’ve been through so much since Christmas,” Harry said.

“I know, we haven’t really gotten any real chance to hang out,” Blaise frowned. “Ever since you got sorted… never mind, anyway, how are you Harry? I’ve heard the strangest things—is it true about what happened over Christmas? Draco told me that you saw your read dad!”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “I think I should start from the beginning…” Harry took a moment to collect his thoughts. As he did so, the couple walked down a slopping hill towards the Black Lake, which was beginning to thaw as March was around the corner. They reached the shores of the lake when Harry said, “Alright. So first, I did fight a troll, right, me and Ron on Halloween. We made Hermione, well more like Ron made Hermione upset, but anyway she spent the rest of the day crying and when Professor Quirrell—”

“Harry,” Blaise laughed lightly, “I was there for that.”

“Oh… right, you yelled at me,” Harry blushed. “Then umm after that! Yeah after that, was my first Quidditch match against Slytherin! You remember that, yeah? When my broom was acting oddly? Turns out Snape was jinxing my broom! Draco and Hagrid doesn’t believe us, but Ron, Hermione, and I know that it was Snape! It had to be! And that three-headed dog in the corridor on the third floor is named Fluffy apparently, and he’s Hagrid’s who brought him from this Greek guy, you see, and now he’s in the corridor guarding the Philosopher’s Stone! Only we didn’t learn about that until after Christmas where Draco found this book—I’m getting ahead of myself, I—”

Harry. Take a breath,” Blaise commanded. Harry stopped talking and immediately took a couple of breaths. “Good, now calm down… what are you talking about, what three-headed dog? What Stone?”

“Oh right… you weren’t there,” Harry said, his cheeks blazing red.

“No. I wasn’t,” Blaise said shortly. “Harry, please don’t tell me you’re doing something dangerous!”

“I don’t know… we just sort of ran into it,” Harry said. “Draco, Hermione, Ron, and I were in the Trophy Room looking for my dad’s Quidditch trophy. It took most of the night, but we found it. We were on our way back when we ran into Peeves, we ran away only to hide behind a door when we heard Filch. It turned out that the door we were hiding behind, it had a giant three-headed dog, which we later learned was named Fluffy, and we really later learned was guarding a thing called the Philosopher’s Stone, something that can grant immortal life. Ron, Hermione, and I believe that Snape is trying to steal the Stone. Hermione and Ron thinks it’s for himself while… while I think that he’s trying to steal it for my grandfather.” Harry whispered softly.

“You think he’s trying to get it for You-Know-Who?” Blaise asked. Harry nodded, mentally preparing himself for Blaise to tell him he’s wrong and that Voldemort was dead. But instead, Blaise asked softly, “How do you feel about that?”

“Huh?” Harry said, shocked.

“How do you feel… about the fact that your grandfather might still be alive?” Blaise asked slowly.

“I don’t know…” Harry said. “On one hand, he’s my family, my grandfather, I should love and respect him, right? But on the other hand… he killed my dad and my mum. He made sure that my dad and Sirius will never be together, with or without Dumbledore’s meddling. Yet… I think things are tense between mother and father and me… they’re really insulted that I didn’t come home for Christmas.”

“I know,” Blaise said. “Mother said that she never saw either of them look so angry.”

“But how could I go back! I mean, in the _two_ letters Father sends me he just yells at me and calls me an insult to the Malfoy name and all this tradition and stuff! And when I expect mother’s letter to at least give me something nice, she’s feeling guilty, that my anger to Father is just plain silly and that we should just drop it! I can’t drop it Blaise! There’s no way I will drop it! He sent me a _Howler_ on the first day of school that practically kicked me out of the family! And he thinks he doesn’t need to apologize for that? No way! I’m not having it!” Harry said passionately. His mood decreased rapidly and looked up at Blaise’s calming eyes.

“Sometimes,” the small boy said in a small voice, “sometimes it feels that Voldemort is my only real family… and that scares me.”

“Harry… Harry no, don’t feel like that,” Blaise said. He quickly let go of Harry’s hand only to pull the boy into a hug. “No, no,” he whispered. “You’ll always have me… and Draco. And there’s Sirius. He’s your godfather, right? You have him.”

“I know I do but… it’s different. I’m not related to any of them by blood. …But I am to _him_ ,” Harry whispered. “A murderer… a madman… a monster who my adopted father supported.”

“Harry,” Blaise frowned. Harry sniffled and looked up at Blaise. “Do you want to know what Mrs. Weasley made for Ron, for the twins, for Percy, and for Draco and me? She made sweaters. Hand-knitted sweaters—and they were all different. Mother… Mother and Father brought me some expensive-looking robes that I suppose I was supposed to wear for their party. It was nice but… I hate wearing stuff like that and compared to Mrs. Weasley’s… it just felt empty.”

“Harry,” Blaise frowned, not knowing what to say to the small boy. “My mother… over the holiday she taught me about relationships. I told her how you were calling me, Draco, and Ron your husbands and kissing us. She said that’s good, but sooner or later you’re going to have to choose one over the others. There’s different types of love, and the love we’re feeling and the kissing that we’re doing will only lead to heartbreak. She asked me… she asked me how I feel about you, and how you feel about me, and Draco, and Ron… She said that, ‘Kissing should be an act shared between you and the person you love above most. It’s a little promise that says that you love each other. Not love like friendship love but romantic love.’ I asked her what did that mean and she said, ‘The difference between your feelings with Harry and your feelings with Draco. You and Draco love each other, yes, because you two are best friends. There’s not a day that goes by where you aren’t together. But Harry’s different, the way you talk about him, the way you describe his kisses, Blaise, that is love love you’re talking about. Not friendly love.’ Anyway… Harry, I just wanted to ask you, before we kiss again, if at all… how do you feel about me, about Draco, and about Ron? Is there a difference or are we just the same?”

A silence fell upon them. Harry stared out at the Black Lake, whose surface was undisturbed by wind or wave. Harry didn’t notice it, but somehow the two boys ended up sitting at the shore, their hands holding again as he thought about how he felt about Blaise, about Draco… and about Ron.

He didn’t know how long they sat there in that silence, both boys staring into the lake, both boys anxious about Harry’s answer. Harry felt like his heart was twisting inside of him as he tried to tackle these complicated feelings inside of him. The elven-year-old found that he had feelings that he couldn’t describe, feelings that felt sickening yet warm, a screw of confusion that in the end made Harry feel bloated.

With a sadness in his voice, he found out that his feelings for Ron was the easiest to talk about. “I like Ron, I really do, he’s a great friend…” Harry began. “But when we kiss… it’s odd. I like it, but it feels a bit wrong, like we’re not supposed to do it. He’s my friend, and I want to keep him but… I don’t think I can keep kissing him.”

“Okay,” Blaise said, nodding. His entire body felt prickly, he found that his hands were starting to shake nervously as he waited for Harry’s answer, anxiety, a concept that Blaise was only vaguely familiar with, overtaking him as his breath quicken as limbs feel awkward, a need to spaz out growing ever so slowly.

“But… I love you. And I love Draco. I love you both the same. No matter how much I can compare, no matter how much I can say… I can’t pick one of you over the other. I love you both. Not a friendly love but a love love,” Harry said with a frown. He looked at Blaise and asked, “Is that bad? Am I a bad person because of this?”

“No! Of course not,” Blaise said. “My mother told me that we’re going to develop these strange feelings as we grow older. It’s okay that we feel confused.”

“I’m not confused,” Harry said confidently. “I love you Blaise, and I love Draco. I love kissing you both, it’s ten times better than kissing Ron. I just can’t…”

“Don’t try to say it Harry,” Blaise said reassuringly, the anxious feeling fading away. “It’ll take time. I can’t even begin to describe my love for you.”

“You can’t,” Harry asked, shocked.

“No, I can’t,” Blaise said. “Later on, when we’re older and when we have a handle on our feelings… Draco and I can battle for your love. But until then, just knowing that you love me is enough.” Blaise smiled and leaned forward, kissing Harry’s cheek sweetly. “Feeling better?” he breathed.

“A little, yeah,” Harry blushed, moving closer to Blaise as they continue to sit.

“Good! So continue telling me everything that I miss,” Blaise smiled. “What happened at Christmas? With this mirror thing?”

“Oh that!” Harry said. “Well, don’t bother looking for it, Dumbledore moved it to another place. The mirror is called The Mirror of Erised and it shows what the viewer desires most. That’s why when I looked into it, I saw my birth family. But when Ron looked into it, he was the Quidditch Captain and Head Boy… and Draco… he saw us out of our father’s control.”

“Wow…” Blaise breathed. “How did you learn all of this?”

“Dumbledore told me,” Harry said. “I know, he’s the guy to blame for, well, everything I guess… but he’s so… grandfathery? And he seems really regretful on what he did when we were five.”

“But what about with your mum and dad?” Blaise asked.

“I don’t know… I guess he does,” Harry sighed. He leaned against Blaise and said, “Things would be a lot easier if Dad was still here… and married to Sirius.”

“Sounds like it,” Blaise breathed. “So… after Christmas?”

“After Christmas…” Harry said slowly. “We found out who Nicolas Flamel is… and then there was the Quidditch game. I saw something very interesting after it.”

“You did?” Blaise asked. “What was it?”

“I saw Snape heading towards the Forbidden Forest after the game,” Harry said softly. “I didn’t even tell the others this… Draco would have killed me if he knew I was flying over the forest. I was just too curious, you know, so I followed him and in the forest he met up with Quirrell! He was trying to bully Quirrell into telling him how to get past Fluffy! I bet that there are other stuff guarding the Stone besides Fluffy and Snape’s trying to bully Quirrell into helping him.”

“Huh… interesting, but Harry this sounds really dangerous,” Blaise said.

“But if Snape’s trying to get the stone for my grandfather—”

“Then we’ll be in a world’s worth of trouble,” Blaise frowned. “But it sounds like the thing’s protected enough, yeah? So try not to worry about it.”

“I’ll try but…” Harry’s began to say.

“No buts,” Blaise said. “Look, those are adult problems, yeah? And we’re kids! Let’s just focus on our problems!”

“My grandfather is my problem,” Harry said softly. “I bet he doesn’t even know that we’re related.”

“Seems like it,” Blaise said. “But forget about him for now, yeah? Let’s focus on something else.”

“Like what?”

“Like how you’re going to tell Ron that you don’t exactly love love him,” Blaise said. “And that he’s not getting any more kisses.”

“Right that,” Harry frowned. “That’s going to be hard.”

“Why?”

“Because of Fred and George,” Harry said. “I really think they believe that we’re boyfriends, Ron and I, even though we just kiss.”

“That’s something boyfriends do,” Blaise laughed, “at least according to my mother.”

“Ohh…” Harry said. “But what about husbands?”

“That comes after boyfriends,” Blaise said. “You date, be boyfriends for a while, then you become husbands after a marriage.”

“Ohh… okay,” Harry said. He sighed and turned his face to look up at Blaise. “It’s going to be hard, telling Ron this.”

But it turned out, it didn’t. Later that day Harry sat Ron down and told him everything he and Blaise talked about. It turned out that Ron was feeling the same way as Harry whenever they kissed, and was annoyed by Fred and George’s taunts. He later brought Hermione in and told the two of them about what he heard between Snape and Quirrell. “It’ll be gone by Tuesday,” Ron moaned.

It turned that Quirrell must have been braver than the three thought he was. In the weeks that followed he did seem to be getting paler and thinner, but it didn’t look as though he’d cracked yet. Every time they passed the third-floor corridor, Harry, Ron, and Hermione would press their ears to the door to check that Fluffy was still growling inside. Snape was sweeping about in his usual bad temper, which surely meant that the Stone was still safe.

Hermione did her best to keep Harry and Ron’s minds on something other than the Philosopher’s Stone. She had started drawing up study schedules and color-coding all her notes. Harry and Ron wouldn’t have minded, but she kept nagging them to do the same.

“Hermione, the exams are ages away!”

“Ten weeks,” Hermione snapped. “That’s not ages, that’s like a second to Nicolas Flamel.”

“But we’re not six hundred years old,” Ron muttered. “Anyway, what are you studying for, you already know everything!”

“But you two don’t,” Draco drawled as they were in a corridor. “Ron, you _do_ realize that you need to pass the exams to get into second year, right?”

“We should have began studying a month ago,” Hermione moaned. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me….”

Unfortunately, the teachers seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Hermione. They piled so much homework on them that the Easter holidays weren’t nearly as much fun as the Christmas ones. It was hard to relax with Hermione next to you reciting the twelve uses of dragon blood or practicing wand movements. Harry barely remembered the letters Sirius had sent to him, his mother and father stopped sending owls, one of them about Sirius excited to introduce the boys to an old friend of Sirius named Remy something or other, Harry couldn’t remember as he and Ron spent most of their free time in the library with Hermione, trying to get through all their extra work.

“I’ll never remember this,” Ron burst out one afternoon, throwing down his quill and looking longingly out of the library window. It was the first really fine day they’d had in months. The sky was clear and there was a feeling of summer just around the corner.

Harry, who was looking up uses of “Dittany” in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, didn’t look up until he heard Ron say, “Hagrid! What are you doing here?”

Hagrid shuffled into view, hiding something behind his back. He looked very out of place. “Jus’ lookin’,” he said in a shifty voice that got their interest at once. “An’ what’re you lot up ter?” He looked suddenly suspicious. “Yer not still lookin’ fer Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?”

“Oh him? We found out who he was ages ago,” Ron said. “And we know what that dog’s guarding, it’s a Philosopher’s St—”

“Shhhh!” Hagrid looked around quickly to see if anyone heard them. “Don’ go shoutn’ about it, what’s the matter with yeh?”

“What’s guarding the stone besides Fluffy?” Harry asked.

“SHHHHH!” Hagrid said again. “Listen—come an’ see me later, I’m not promisin’ I’ll tell yeh anythin’, mind, but don’ go rabbitin’ about it in here, students aren’ s’pposed ter know. They’ll think I’ve told yeh—”

“See you later, then,” Harry said, mentally reminding himself to bring his brother along with them. Hagrid shuffled off.

“What was he hiding behind his back?” Hermione said thoughtfully.

“I’m going to see what section he was in,” Ron said. And a minute later he came back with a pile of books in his arms. “Dragons!” he whispered. “Hagrid was looking up stuff about dragons!” He slammed the books on the table.

“Isn’t this against the law, though?” Harry asked. “Dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlock’s Conventions of 1709. It’s kinda hard to stop Muggles from noticing us if we’re keeping dragons around.”

“You can remember that, Harry, but you can’t bother to remember anything Professor Binns teach us?” Hermione said, flabbergasted.

“Of course,” Harry smiled. “Dragons are cool! And they’re Draco’s favorite animal.”

“Figures,” Hermione muttered. “But there can’t be any dragons in Britain, can there?”

“Course there are,” Ron said. “Common Welsh Green and Hebirdean Blacks. The Ministry’s has a job hushing them up, I can tell you.”

“So what on earth is Hagrid up to?” Hermione said.

Half an hour later Harry made his way to the dungeons. He walked towards where the Slytherin Common room is and face the stone wall. He pulled out a slip of paper with a list of passwords written onto it and said, “Umm… Dittany?”

The wall slid open and Harry quickly pocketed the slip of paper. Walking into the common room he looked around, his eyes scanning for a familiar platinum blonde.

“Potter! What are you doing here again?” Parkinson yelled from her small group of girls. The older Slytherins just glanced at him, some saying “Hey Malfoy.”

Ignoring Parkinson, Harry turned to the older Slytherins and asked, “Do you know where my brother is?”

One of them pointed towards the back of the common room. Harry thanked them before walking deeper into the Slytherin common room, the stone wall closing behind him. Draco was sitting Blaise and another boy, the three of them bent over an essay for Professor McGonagall. Harry approached them and bent over Draco’s shoulder. “Draco,” he said. The older Malfoy did not jump as he just turned his head towards Harry.

“Hi Harry, do you need something?” Draco asked.

“Umm Ron and Hermione and I are going to Hagrid’s,” Harry began. “If you want a break… Hagrid was going to answer some of our questions about, well…”

“Fine,” Draco sighed. “I’m just about done with this essay anyway. I could use a break.” He set his quill down and stood up, stretching. “Just promise me one thing Harry.”

“What is it?”

“Please don’t this turn into about your grandfather again,” Draco said. “You and I both know that he’s gone for good.” Harry frowned, his eyes glancing at Blaise. Did he tell him?

“Come on, let’s go,” Draco grabbed Harry’s hand and pulled him out of the Slytherin common room and back into the dungeons.

They met up with Hermione and Ron at the door of the gamekeeper’s hut and knocked, surprised to see that the curtains were closed. Hagrid called “Who is it?” before he let them in, and then shut the door quickly behind them.

It was stifling hot inside. Even though it was such a warm day, there was a blazing fire in the grate. Hagrid made them tea and offered them stoat sandwiches, which they refused.

“So—yeh wanted to ask me somethin’?”

“Yes,” Harry said. “We were wondering if you could tell us what’s guarding the Philosopher’s Stone apart from Fluffy?”

Hagrid frowned at him; Draco just glared.

“O’ course I can’t,” he said. “Number one, I don’ know meself. Number two—”

“Oh, come on, Hagrid, you might not want to tell us, but you do know, you know everything that goes on around here,” Hermione said in a warm, flattering voice. Hagrid’s beard twitched and they could tell he was smiling. “We only wondered who had done the guarding, really,” Hermione went on. “We wondered who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help him, apart from you.”

Hagrid’s chest swelled at these last words. Harry and Ron beamed at Hermione. Again, Draco just glared.

“Well I don’ s’pose it could hurt ter tell yeh that …let’s see… he borrowed Fluffy from me …then some o’ the teachers did enchantments …Professor Sprout—Professor Flitwich—Professor McGonagall—” he ticked them off on his fingers, “Professor Quirrell—an Dumbledore himself did somethin’, o’ course. Oh yeah, an’ Professor Snape.”

“Snape?”

“Harry! He is not after the Stone,” Draco groaned. “How many times do I have to _tell_ you?”

Harry ignored his brother and said to Hagrid, “You’re the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy, aren’t you?”

“Not a soul knows except me an’ Dumbledore,” Hagrid said proudly.

“Well, that’s something,” Harry muttered to the others.

“There, happy now?” Draco asked. He looked around and stared at the fire. His eyes widened as he stared at the fireplace. In the very heart of the fire, underneath the kettle, was a huge, black egg. “Hagrid!” he gasped. “Why do you have _that_ in your fire?”

“Where did you get it Hagrid?” Ron said, crouching over the fire to get a closer look at the egg. “It must’ve cost you a fortune.”

“Won it,” Hagrid said. “Las’ night. I was down in the village havin’ a few drinks an’ got into a game o’ cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest.”

“Hagrid,” Draco said seriously. “This is very illegal—what are you going to do when it _hatches_?”

“Oh, I’ve been doin’ some readin’,” Hagrid said. “S’pose ter keep in in the fire, ‘cause their mothers breathe on ‘em see, an’ when it hatches, feed it on a bucket o’ brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour.”

“Hagrid,” Draco said again with the same seriousness. “This egg is a Norwegian Ridgeback. Not only are they rare but they are _poisonous_! And least you forget, you live in a _wooden house_!”

But Hagrid wasn’t listening. He was humming merrily as he stroke the fire. Draco groaned in frustration. Ron turned to Draco and asked, “How do you know so much?”

“I read about Dragons all the time, Ronald,” Draco said.

“It’s true,” Harry nodded. “Look at the bookcase in his room, potions and dragons, potions and dragons—he still has his stuffed dragon from when he was five—OW!” Harry laughed as Draco slapped his shoulder in anger.

“Least I still don’t sleep with my pet animals, unlike you,” Draco muttered.

“One time! One time!” Harry yelled. “When I was ten!”

Draco just shrugged and turned to Ron. “This dragon is extremely dangerous, what is Hagrid doing to do when it hatches?”

“I don’t know, but it can’t be good,” Ron sighed.

Day after day they continued to worry about Hagrid and the dragon egg. Draco took to complaining to Harry about it until one morning, Hedwig brought Harry a note from Hagrid with only two words: _It’s Hatching._

The four of them ran to Hagrid’s hut after classes. The egg was lying on the table. There were deep cracks in it. Something was moving inside, a funny clicking noise was coming from it. They all drew their chairs up to the table and watched with bated breath.

All at once there was a scraping noise and the egg split open. The baby dragon flopped onto the table. It wasn’t exactly pretty; Harry thought it looked like a crumpled, black umbrella. Its spiny wings were huge compared to its skinny jet body, it had a long snout with wide nostrils, the stubs of horns and bulging, orange eyes.

It sneezed. A couple of sparks flew out of its snout.

“Isn’t he beautiful?” Hagrid murmured. He reached out a hand to stroke the dragon’s head. It snapped at his fingers, showing pointed fangs.

“Bless him, look he knows his mummy!” Hagrid said.

Draco leaned towards Ron. “Your brother Charlie still works with Dragons, yeah?” he whispered.

“Yeah, he does,” Ron whispered back.

“Owl him immediately about the dragon,” Draco hissed. “Hagrid’ll hate it but that thing needs to go.”

“Umm… okay.”

“Hagrid,” Hermione said, “how fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow, exactly?”

“Look at it this way Granger,” Draco said. “The dragon will be triple its size by next week.”

 

Ron wrote to Charlie immediately. They’ve gotten his reply a week later and, just as Draco has predicted, the dragon has grown three times in length in just a week.

“I’ve decided to call him Norbert,” Hagrid said, looking at the dragon with misty eyes. “He really knows me now, watch. Norbert! Norbert! Where’s Mummy?”

“He’s lost his marbles,” Ron muttered in Harry’s ear.

The reply came on Wednesday night, the three Gryffindors were in the common room, long after everyone else had gone to bed. Hedwig was tapping on the dark window. Harry rushed to open the window and the three put their heads together to read the note.

_Dear Ron,_

_How are you? Thanks for the letter—I’d be glad to take the Norwegian Ridgeback, but it won’t be easy getting him here. I think the best thing will be to send him over with some friends of mine who are coming to visit me next week. Trouble is, they mustn’t be seen carrying an illegal dragon._

_Could you get the Ridgeback up the tallest tower at midnight on Saturday? They can meet you there and take him away while it’s still dark._

_Send me an answer as soon as possible._

_Love,_

_Charlie_

“We’ve got the invisibility cloak,” Harry said. “Shouldn’t be too difficult… the hardest thing will be to wait for Saturday to come.”

“You’re going to tell your brother, right?” Ron asked.

“Of course,” Harry said. “He would hate me if I denied him the chance to get rid of the dragon himself.”

It was a marvel how slow the week seemed to drag along. During every class, Harry could think of nothing else but the growing dragon in Hagrid’s hut. He sat in his classes dazed, his eyes out the window as if expecting to see a fire, or a small dragon flying away. His mind wandered to Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, and wondered how they would react if they knew that Harry convinced Draco into smuggling an illegal dragon around the castle. Sirius would have a laugh about it, that was for certain, but his adopted parents? Mr. Malfoy would be furious. Harry could picture him sending another howler, or just walking into the castle himself to yell at Harry in front of anyone and everyone. Harry could practically hear his father yelling, blaming his “Potterness” for Harry’s and Draco’s actions. The more Harry thought about it, the angrier Harry got about the whole thing. By Wednesday he made up his mind that there was no way he would tell Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy about anything he and Draco are doing.

By the time Saturday came around, Harry was only glad to get rid of Norbert. It was a very dark, cloudy night, and they were a bit late arriving at Hagrid’s hut because they had to wait for Peeves to get out of their way in the entrance hall, where he’d been playing tennis against the wall.

Hagrid had Norbert packed and ready in a large crate. “He’s got lots o’ rats an’ some brandy fer the journey,” Hagrid said n a muffled voice. “An’ I packed his teddy bear in case he gets lonely.”

“That teddy bear is going to be roasted before we get to the tower,” Draco grumbled as they covered the crate with the invisibility cloak, Hagrid crying.

How the four managed to get the crate back up to the castle and keep the cloak on all of them, they’ll never know. Midnight ticked nearer as they heaved Norbert up the marble staircase in the entrance hall and along the dark corridors. Up another staircase, then another—even one of Harry’s shortcuts didn’t make it easier.

They were lucky, however, in that they walked into nobody as they climbed the final staircase in the highest tower. Not until they stepped out into the cold night air did they throw off the cloak, glad to be able to breathe properly again.

“Harry… never again,” Draco wheezed, clearly out of breath. “I don’t care… if it’s a three-headed dog, a dragon, or even a two-tailed cat! We are _never_ doing something like this for Hagrid again!”

“I hear you,” Ron said, falling to his knees. “Who knew dragons were so bloody heavy?”

“No wonder your brother has those big arms,” Harry said, looking back at the crate where Norbert was thrashing about. Ten minutes later, four broomsticks came swooping down out of the darkness.

Charlie’s friends were a cheery lot. They showed the four the harness they’d rigged up, so they could suspend Norbert between them. They all helped buckle Norbert safely into it and then the four shook hands with the others and thanked them very much.

At last, Norbert was going…gone… gone.

“Thank goodness,” Ron yawned. “I’m exhausted!”

They slipped down the spiral staircase, their hearts as light as their hands, now that Norbert was off them. Even Draco didn’t complain, smiling with them as they stepped off the foot of the staircase, turned the corner, and ran into Filch.

“Well, well, well,” he whispered, “we _are_ in trouble.”

They’d left the invisibility cloak on top of the tower.


	19. The Forest

**The Nineteenth Chapter**

**The Forest**

Filch brought them down to Professor McGonagall’s study on the first floor, where they sat and waited without saying a word to each other. Hermione was trembling. Excuses, alibis, and wild cover-up stories chased each other around Harry’s brain, each more feeble than the last. He couldn’t see how they were going to get out of trouble this time. They were cornered. How could they have been so stupid as to forget the cloak? There was no reason on earth that Professor McGonagall would accept for their being out of bed and creeping around the school in the dead of night, let alone up the astronomy tower, which was out-of-bounds except for classes. Add Norbert and the invisibility cloak, and they might as well be packing their bags already.

Harry turned to look at Draco. It was like looking at a ghost, his skin deathly pale, and lips completely colorless. His eyes stared out, looking at nothing in particular as his mouth hung open. Harry guessed to himself that Draco was worrying about what their Father would say, or do, to him once he finds out. Growing up Mr. Malfoy regularly spanked them for troublemaking, but Draco always got off easy compared to Harry. Could this be the final straw, or will Mr. Malfoy blame everything on Harry? Harry couldn’t help but start to worry about that too.

Professor McGonagall appeared looking furious. “I would never have believed it of any of you. Mr. Filch says you were up in the astronomy tower. It’s one o’clock in the morning. _Explain yourselves._ ”

It was the first time Hermione had ever failed to answer a teacher’s question. She was staring at her slippers, as still as a statue. Ron’s hair stood up at it’s end, small whimpers escaping his mouth.

“I’m disgusted,” Professor McGonagall said. “Four students out of bed in one night! I’ve never heard of such a thing before! You, Miss Granger, I thought you had more sense. As for you, Mr. Malfoy, I thought Gryffindor meant more to you than this. All four of you will receive detention and fifty points will be taken from both Gryffindor and Slytherin.”

“ _Fifty?_ ” Harry gasped—they would lose the lead, the lead he’d won in the last Quidditch match.

“Each,” Professor McGonagall said, breathing heavily through her long, pointed nose.

“Professor—please—”

“You can’t—”

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do, Mr. Weasley. Now get back to bed all of you. I’ve never been more ashamed of Gryffindor or Slytherin students. Professor Snape will hear of this, Mr. Malfoy, mark my words.”

A hundred and fifty points lost. That put Gryffindor in last place. In one night, they’d ruined any chance Gryffindor had had for the house cup. Harry felt as though the bottom had dropped out of his stomach. How could they ever make up for this?

Draco didn’t talk to them as he left towards the dungeon. Harry didn’t sleep all night. He was dreading the dawn. What would happen when the rest of the Gryffindor found out what they’d done? What will his father do? Harry didn’t want to think of the consequences.

At first, Gryffindors passing the giant hourglass that recorded the house points the next day though there’d been a mistake. How could they suddenly have a hundred and fifty points fewer than yesterday? And then the story started to spread: Harry Potter-Malfoy, the famous Harry Potter-Malfoy, their hero of two Quidditch matches, had lost them all those points, him and a couple of idiotic first years.

Harry suddenly became the most hated person at school. Even Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs turned on him, because everyone had been longing to see Slytherin lose the cup. Everywhere Harry went, people pointed and didn’t trouble to lower their voices as they insulted him.

Even Quidditch lost its fun. The rest of the team wouldn’t speak to Harry during practice, and if they had to speak about him, they called him “the Seeker.”

Blaise chased after him one day, dragging Draco with him. “What were you two thinking?” he yelled. “Draco told me everything— _what_ were you two thinking being out of bed? Let alone drag—dragging a dragon,” he whispered the last part. “Didn’t either of you think how dangerous that is? What if they decide to tell your father? He would be furious!”

“We had to get Norbert out,” Harry argued. “Hagrid lives in a wooden house and that dragon would have burned it down!”

“Still you should have told a teacher,” Blaise said. “That dragon was not your problem, Harry. Or yours Draco! You should have been more reasonable!”

“You don’t think I know that?” Draco said irritably. “You don’t think of how stupid I’ve been, and every single little flaw I have that my father is going to point out? I don’t need you Zabini to tell me how much Harry and I screwed up!”

“I’m not telling you that you screwed up,” Blaise yelled. “I’m saying that you and Harry have to stop doing all this stupid dangerous stuff and just forget about that damn Stone! And your grandfather!”

Harry just glared at Blaise, a small frustrated anger growing inside him. Blaise huffed and threw his hands up. “Look just… just try to be a regular student? Okay? The year’s almost done and I don’t want you or Draco to do anything stupid that would cause Mr. Malfoy to come down here, or worse get you expelled. Can you try and promise that?”

“Fine,” Harry grumbled, crossing his arms.

He was almost glad that the exams weren’t far away. All the study he had to do kept his mind off his misery. He, Ron, and Hermione kept to themselves, working late into the night, trying to remember the ingredients in complicated potions, learn charms and spells by heart, memorize the dates of magical discovers and goblin rebellions… Blaise and Draco seemed to force the stuff that started to leak out of Harry back in during the day, the tallest of the trio dragging the two Malfoys into the library whenever he could.

Then, a week before the exams were due to begin, Harry, Ron, and Hermione all received similar letters that all read:

_Your detention will take place at eleven o’clock tonight. Meet Mr. Filch in the entrance hall._

_Professor M. McGonagall_

Eleven that night, the three went down to the entrance hall. Filch was already there—and so was Draco. The two brothers slipped their hands together when Filch wasn’t looking.

“Follow me,” Filch said, lighting a lamp and leading them outside.

“I bet you’ll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won’t you, eh?” he said, leering at them. “Oh yes …hard work and pain are the best teachers I say. …It’s a pity they let the old punishment die out… hang you by your wrists from the ceiling for a few days, I’ve got the chains still in my office, keep ‘em well oiled in case they’re ever needed. “ Harry felt Draco’s hand tighten on his, and turned to see his face growing paler. “Right, off we go, and don’t think of running off, now, it’ll be worse for you if you do.”

They marched off across the dark grounds. Harry squeezed Draco’s hand reassuringly as Draco continued to squeeze Harry’s in fear. Their eyes met behind their glasses and both boys bit their lips. The moon was bright, but clouds scudding across it kept throwing them into darkness. Ahead, Harry could see the lighted window of Hagrid’s hut. They walked towards it, and Harry saw Hagrid’s and Fang’s figures as they moved closer to the hut. The four of them felt a sense of relief. Filch must have saw their relief as he said, “I suppose you think you’ll be enjoying yourself with that oaf? Well, think again, boy—it’s into the forest with you lot and I’m much mistaken if you’ll all come out in one piece.”

Draco stopped dead in his tracks, pulling Harry with him. “The forest?” he repeated, sounding far from his usual cool self. “We can’t go in there—there’s werewolves and all sort of things in there!”

“That’s your problem, isn’t it?” Filch said, his voice cracking with glee. “Should’ve thought of them werewolves before you got in trouble, shouldn’t you?”

Hagrid came striding toward them out of the dark, Fang at his side. He was carrying a large crossbow and a quiver of arrows hung over his shoulder. “Abou’ time,” he said. “I bin waitin’ fer half an hour already. All right, you lot?”

“I shouldn’t be too friendly to them Hagrid,” Filch said coldly, “they’re here to be punished, remember?” He cackled at himself and turned to leave back towards the castle, his lamp bobbing away in the darkness.

Draco now turned to Hagrid. “I’m not going into the forest!” he said, panic in his voice. “I thought we were going to copy lines or something!”

“What good’s that ter anyone? Yeh’ll do summat useful or yeh’ll get out,” Hagrid said fiercely. Draco didn’t move for a moment, he just squeezed Harry’s hand. “Right then,” Hagrid said, “now, listen carefully, ‘cause it’s dangerous what we’re gonna do tonight an’ I don’ want no one takin’ risks. Follow me over here a moment.”

He led them to the very edge of the forest. Holding his lamp up high, he pointed down a narrow, winding each track that disappeared into the thick black trees.

“Look there,” Hagrid said, “see that stuff shinin’ on the ground? Silvery stuff? That’s unicorn blood. There’s a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We’re gonna try an’ find the poor thing. We might have ter pet it out of its misery.”

“And what if whatever’s hurting the unicorns decides to hurt us?” Draco asked.

“There’s nothin’ that lives in the forest that’ll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang,” Hagrid said. “An’ keep ter the path. Right, now we’re gonna split inter two parties—”

“I have Harry and Fang,” Draco said quickly.

“Fine. So, me, Ron, an’ Hermione’ll go one way an’ Draco, Harry an’ Fang’ll go the other. Now, if any of us finds the unicorn, we’ll send up green sparks, right? An’ if anyone gets in trouble, send up red an’ we’ll all come an’ find yeh—so be careful—let’s go.”

The forest was black and silent. A little way into it they reached a fork in the path, and Harry, Draco, and Fang took the right path while Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid took the left. They walked in silence, their eyes on the ground. Draco still held Harry’s hand the entire way. Then, Harry asked softly, “Are you mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you?” Draco said a bit forcefully.

“Because it’s my fault that you’re in here,” Harry said. “I mean, if I didn’t get you involve with the dragon stuff, you wouldn’t be wondering around the forest and… and you wouldn’t be thinking about what father is going to do to us when he hears about it.”

Draco made a scoffing sound and muttered, “Stupid stubborn… it’s not your fault Harry. And you did not drag me into it! I was the one who told Ron to owl Charlie, and it was my idea to get the dragon out in the first place! The way I look at it, I was cleaning Hagrid’s mess more than you pulling me into it.”

“But what about the stuff with the Stone? And my grand—”

“Stop,” Draco said. “Those? Those you did drag me into Harry. But also, it is my responsibility to look after you, _little brother_. Knowing you, I would have become involved one way or another.”

“So you finally believe me when I say that Snape’s—”

“It’s not Snape! Stop accusing my Head of House, Harry,” Draco growled in frustration. “And no, don’t you try and argue with me on that. Sure, _someone_ might be trying to steal the Stone, but it’s not Snape.”

“Then tell me who,” Harry said. “If it’s not Snape, who’s trying to steal the Stone?”

“How should I know? I’m not psychic!” Draco said. “It’s just not Snape. And that is the last time we’re talking about it.”

Harry huffed and looked down. He saw a small splotch of silvery blood and pointed at it,” Draco, look!”

“Great, we’re on the right track,” Draco said with a scrunched-up look, his voice higher than usual. “Err… what would Sirius think if he heard we were in the forest?”

“He’d probably laugh,” Harry said, feeling the same sort of fear that Draco was feeling, “before telling us how dangerous it is…”

“Then he’ll probably tell us another story about your dad and him,” Draco continued. “Most likely that time they sneaked into Hogsmeade that one time, remember?”

“In order to snog in the middle of the village when everyone else was sleeping?” Harry asked.

“That’s the one,” Draco nodded, a small smile appearing on his face despite his fear.

“Or the one with them and their friend umm… that guy walking around and finding all the secret passages,” Harry said.

“Shame they didn’t make a map of that,” Draco grumbled. “Could have help us avoid Filch on the Astronomy Tower.”

“Yeah…” Harry nodded softly. “That would have been nice.” They looked around. The moonlight barely penetrated the canopy of trees as they walked deeper into the forest, the trees growing thicker and thicker as they headed deeper and deeper. “Remember that letter Sirius sent us? About how his and dad’s friend moved into his home?”

“The one with the ‘furry little problem?’” Draco asked.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, frowning. “Do you remember his name? Or the name of his dog?”

Draco looked up for a moment as they walked, then he shook his head and said, “No I don’t… it started with an ‘R’ right?”

“Yeah but was that the guy or the dog?” Harry asked.

“I don’t know… but if Sirius has a dog, Father isn’t going to like that,” Draco said.

“Yeah… he hates it when Sirius shifts,” Harry chuckled. “Just imagine two dogs running around!”

“Father would never visit Sirius’s house,” Draco said.

“Think that was his plan?” Harry grinned. Draco chuckled and pulled his brother closer. “Sounds like it,” he said. They smiled at each other, but Harry could see the distinct fear in Draco’s eyes.

They continued to walk down the path, the splotches of silver blood growing thicker and thicker along with the trees. It seemed that they were heading towards the heart of the forest, and as they did so the blood definitely gotten thicker. There were splashes on the roots of a tree, as though the poor creature had been thrashing around in pain close by. There was a clearing ahead, through the tangled branches of an ancient oak.

“Look,” Draco muttered, his hand finally letting go of Harry’s as he pointed. Something bright white was gleaming on the ground. They inched closer.

It was the unicorn, and it was dead. Harry had never seen anything so beautiful and sad. Its long, slender legs were stuck out at odd angles where it had fallen and its mane was spread pearly-white on the dark leaves. Harry made to take a step when a slithering sound stopped him. A bush on the edge of the clearing quivered. …Then, out of the darkness, a hooded figure came crawling across the ground like some stalking beast. Harry, Draco, and Fang stood transfixed. The cloaked figure reached the unicorn, lowered its head over the wound and began to drink its blood.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!”

Draco let out a terrible scream and bolted—so did Fang. The hooded figure raised its head and looked right at Harry. It got to its feet and came swiftly toward Harry—he couldn’t move for fear.

Then a pain like he’d never felt before pierced his head; it was as though his scar was on fire. Half blinded, he staggered backwards and fell. He heard hooves behind him, and a second later a second figure appeared. With the body of a horse, and the naked torso and head of a man, the creature kicked it’s legs at the figure, which ran away. On the ground, Harry just stared at where the cloaked figure was, his mouth hung open as he whispered to himself, “Grandfather?”

“Are you alright?” the centaur said, pulling Harry to his feet.

“Yes—thank you—what was that?”

The centaur didn’t answer. He had astonishingly blue eyes, like pale sapphires and white-blond hair. He looked carefully at Harry, his eyes lingering on the scar that stood out, livid, on Harry’s forehead.

“You are the Potter boy,” he said. “You had better get back to Hagrid. The forest is not safe at the time.”

“What was that thing?” Harry asked, although he felt in his gut he knew the answer already. He didn’t feel like correcting the centaur was important right now.

“Harry Potter, do you know what unicorn blood is used for?”

“No,” Harry said. “We’ve only used the horn and tail hair in Potions.”

“That is because it is a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn,” the centaur said. “Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. You have slain something pure and defenseless to save yourself, and you will have but a half-life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your lips.”

“But who would be that desperate?” Harry asked, the pit in his stomach growing larger and larger as his mind kept screaming his grandfather’s name. “If you’re going to be cursed forever, death’s better, isn’t it?”

“It is—unless all you need is to stay alive long enough to drink something else—something that will bring you back to full strength and power… something that will give you immortality. Harry Potter, do you know what is hidden in the school at this very moment?”

“The Philosopher’s Stone! The elixir of life, of course! But…” It was as though an iron fist has clenched suddenly around Harry’s heart. “Do you mean that Vol—”

“Harry! Harry! I’m sorry!” Draco was running towards them, Hagrid and the others puffing along behind them.

“I’m fine,” Harry said, hardly knowing what he was saying. “The unicorn’s dead, Hagrid.

“This is where I leave you,” the centaur said as Hagrid went off to examine the unicorn. “You are safe now.” He turned and cantered back into the depths of the forest, leaving Harry shivering behind him.

Harry turned to Draco, who looked completely ashamed of himself. “I’m sorry,” the Slytherin said again. “I got too scared and—”

“Never mind that, there’s something I need to tell you,” Harry said. He grabbed Draco’s arm and pulled him away from the unicorn and Hagrid, Ron and Hermione following them instinctively. “That thing—it was Voldemort!” Harry said. “Snape—someone wants the stone for Voldemort …and Voldemort’s waiting in the forest … and all this time we thought that Sn—someone just wants the stone to become rich!”

“Stop saying the name!” Ron said in a terrified whisper, as if he thought Voldemort could hear him.

Harry wasn’t listening. “That centaur saved me but it’s only a matter of time for Voldemort to get the Stone. Then Voldemort will be able to come and finish me off,” he said feverishly.

“Harry,” Hermione said, “everyone says Dumbledore’s the only one You-Know-Who was ever afraid of. With Dumbledore around, your grandfather won’t touch you. As long as Dumbledore’s around… you’ll be safe.”

Harry only felt a little relieved. It was only when the four of them were walking back towards the castle that he talked again to Draco. “Your grandfather is here,” Draco breathed. “I’m so sorry Harry. …I shouldn’t have left you.”

Harry shook his head, “No it’s ok—”

“No, it’s not okay,” Draco argued. “Seriously, I ran away from you! In front of your grandfather! If—if it weren’t for that centaur you would have been—”

“I’m fine Draco! Seriously,” Harry said. He looked behind his back to see Hermione and Ron a few steps behind them. Harry leaned towards Draco and hissed, _“I’m fine, stop worrying about me.”_

Draco gave a small laugh and said, “Don’t hiss in my ear like that, I can’t understand you! And it feels funny when you do that.”

 _“Not going to stop,”_ Harry grinned, hissing air into Draco’s ear. Draco laughed some more and pushed Harry away. “I’m not going to stop worrying or feel bad just because you hiss in my ear,” he said.

Harry just grinned at him and grabbed his hand, squeezing tightly.

When Harry pulled back his sheets in his dormitory he found his invisibility cloak folded neatly underneath them. There was a note pinned to it: _Just in case._

 

Both Harry and Draco could never have guessed how exactly they both managed to get through their exams when they half expected Harry’s grandfather to come bursting through the door at any moment. Yet the days crept by, and there could be no doubt that Fluffy was still alive and well behind the locked door. Even better, in both boys opinions, they didn’t receive any letters from home about the detention which meant that surely Professor McGonagall didn’t write to them, or their father didn’t found out.

It was sweltering hot, especially in the large classroom where they did their written papers. They had been given special, new quills for the exams, which had been bewitched with an Anti-Cheating spell. They had practical exams as well. Professor Flitwick called them one by one into his class to see if they could make a pineapple tap dance; Professor McGonagall watched them turn a mouse into a snuffbox; Snape made them all nervous, breathing down their necks while they tried to remember how to make a Forgetfulness potion.

Harry did the best he could, trying to ignore the stabbing pain in his forehead, which had been bothering him ever since his trip to the forest. Blaise did his best to keep him busy between the exams, but no matter how busy Blaise kept Harry studying, the pain in his forehead just continued. Their very last examine was History of Magic. One hour of answering questions about hatty old wizards who’d invented self-stirring cauldrons and they’d be free, free for a whole week until their exam results came out. Harry could hardly wait just spending time with just Draco and Blaise again; unfortunately, he still had something to worry about.

His mind kept going back to the Stone, to the cloaked figure in the forest drinking unicorn blood until he gets the Stone. But there were all those enchantments protecting it… not to mention Fluffy. There was no way that Snape could get past Fluffy, besides Hagrid would never betray Dumbledore by telling the rest of the staff. He would never in his right mind tell anyone how to get past Fluffy…never… but—

As soon as the exam was done, Harry ran straight out of the castle, Ron, Hermione, Draco and Blaise chasing after him. “Harry!” they all yelled but he didn’t answer. He just ran through the corridors in the castle, down the staircases, into the entrance hall, and out onto the grounds. Harry continued to run down the slopping hill towards the forest and the small little hut sitting at its edge, where Hagrid was outside sitting in an armchair, shelling peas.

“Hullo,” he said smiling as Harry stopped in front of him, the others chasing after. “Finished yer exams? Got time fer a drink?”

“No, I need to ask you Hagrid, about the night you won Norbert. What did the stranger you were playing cards look like? Did you guys talk? Did you mention Hogwarts?”

“Dunno what he looks like, he wouldn’t take his cloak off,” Hagrid said. “’Sides, it’s not that unusual, yeh get a lot o’ funny folk in the Hog’s Head—that’s the pub in the village. Mighta come up that I work here. He asked what I did, an’ I told him I was gamekeeper here… He asked a bit about the sorta creatures I look after… so I told him… an’ I said what I’d always really wanted was a dragon… an’ then … I can’ remember too well, ‘cause he kept buyin’ me drinks. … Let’s see… he said he had the dragon egg an’ we could play cards fer it if I wanted, but he had ter be sure I could handle it. So I told him, after Fluffy, a dragon would be easy. …”

“And he was interested in Fluffy?” Harry asked.

“Well—yeah—how many three-headed dogs d’yeh meet, even around Hogwarts? So I told him, Fluffy’s a piece o’ cake if yeh know how to calm him. Jus’ play a bit o’ music an’ he’ll go straight off ter sleep—”

Hagrid suddenly looked terrified.

“I shouldn’ta told yeh that!” he blurted out. Hey—where’re yeh goin’?”

Harry started running again, the others chasing after him. He came to a stop at the entrance hall only when Draco and Blaise caught up to him and forced him to stop, each grabbing an arm and pulling back.

“What is going on?” Blaise demanded.

“Hagrid told the stranger how to get past Fluffy, we have to tell Dumbledore,” Harry said. “It must have been either Voldemort or whoever’s helping him under that cloak, it must’ve been easy once he got Hagrid drunk. I just hope Dumbledore believes us—”

“No, stop. I told you to stop thinking about this,” Blaise said. “This is not our problem—”

“It is! If Voldemort is trying to get the Stone and knows how to get through Fluffy—”

“There’s still the other enchantments though,” Blaise said. “You don’t need to be the gallant hero or anything!”

“I’m not, I just have to warn Dumbledore,” Harry yelled back.

“Fine, let’s just go warn Dumbledore and forget about it,” Blaise said. Only they didn’t know where Dumbledore’s office was. They had never been told where Dumbledore lived, nor did they know anyone who had been sent to see him.

“We’ll just have to—”

“What are you five doing inside?”

It was Professor McGonagall, carrying a large pile of books.

“We want to see Professor Dumbledore,” Hermione said, rather bravely, Harry and Ron thought.

“See Professor Dumbledore?” Professor McGonagall repeated, as though this was a very fishy thing to want to do. “Why?”

“It’s a secret,” Hermione said, looking at the others for help, causing Professor McGonagall’s nostrils to flare.

“Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago,” she said coldly. “He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and flew off for London at once.”

“He’s gone?” Harry said frantically. “Now?”

“Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard, Potter-Malfoy, he has many demands on his time—”

“But this is about the Philosopher’s Stone!” Harry said.

The books Professor McGonagall was carrying fell to the ground, but she didn’t pick them up. “How do you know—?” she spluttered.

“Professor, I know that someone’s going to try and steal the Stone. I’ve got to talk to Dumbledore.”

She eyed him with a mixture of shock and suspicion. “Professor Dumbledore will be back tomorrow,” she said finally. “I don’t know how you found out about the Stone, but rest assured, no one can possibly steal it, it’s too well protected.”

“But, Professor—”

“Malfoy, I know what I’m talking about,” she said shortly. She bent down and gathered up the fallen books. “I suggest you all go back outside and enjoy the sunshine.”

“There, we’ve warned someone,” Blaise said shortly once Professor McGonagall was out of earshot. “Now we can finally relax and forget about this whole stupid thing.”

“No we can’t,” Harry said. “It’s tonight. Sn—he is going through the trapdoor tonight. He’s found out everything he needs, and now he’s got Dumbledore out of the way. He sent the note, I bet the Ministry of Magic will get a real shock—”

“God! Listen to yourself Harry!” Blaise yelled. “Don’t you know how insane you sound? Honestly!”

“Insane? What’s insane is the thought of just letting my grandfather get the stone!” Harry yelled back. “We have to do something!”

“No, we don’t! We’re children Harry! Children!” Blaise said. “All we should be worrying about are exams and hiding stuff from our parents! Not this! Not whatever this stuff is!”

“So you don’t care if Voldemort gets the Stone do you?” Harry argued.

“I didn’t say that! I’m just telling you that we are children!” Blaise said. “We’re not supposed to handle stuff like this.”

Harry just glared at him fiercely. “I’m going to get the Stone first tonight, before Snape or Voldemort can get it.”

“You’re mad!” Ron said.

“You can’t!” Hermione said. “You’ll be expelled!”

“There is no way—”

“SO WHAT?” Harry shouted. “Don’t you understand? If Snape gets hold of the Stone, Voldemort’s coming back! Haven’t you heard what it was like when he was trying to take over? There won’t be any Hogwarts to get expelled from! He’ll flatten it, or turn it into a school for the Dark Arts! Losing points doesn’t matter anymore, can’t you see? D’you think he’ll leave you and your families alone if Gryffindor wins the house cup? If I get caught before I can get to the Stone, well, I’ll have to go back home to Malfoy Manor and wait for my grandfather to find me there, it’s only dying a bit later than I would have. He killed my dad! His own son! He wouldn’t blink an eye going against me! I’m going through the trapdoor tonight and nothing any of you say is going to stop me!”

He glared at them.

“You’re right Harry,” Hermione said in a small voice.

“I’ll use the invisibility cloak,” Harry said. “It’s just lucky I got it back.”

“But will it fit all of us?” Ron asked.

“All… all of us?”

“You actually think I’ll let you do something this stupid alone?” Draco said. “How do you expect to get to the bloody thing without our help?”

“But if we get caught, we’ll be expelled too,” Harry said.

“So what?” Draco said. “It’s like you said… if your grandfather gets the stone, it’s over. It doesn’t matter if you’re a Malfoy now, he’ll see you as a threat.”

“Okay…” Harry nodded. “Okay… do you think you can sneak of the Slytherin dormitory and meet us at the third floor when everyone’s sleeping?”

“Of course, I’ll leave at eleven,” Draco smirked.

“Crazy… you’re all crazy,” Blaise muttered. They turned to him only to see that he was shaking with frustration. “So this is it, huh? Just happily going into trouble _again_ Harry? Well I don’t want anything to do with this! You guys can have fun being moronic on your owns and getting hurt! God, am I the only one with common sense in this world?”

He stormed off, muttering angrily to himself. Harry frowned and turned to the others. He took a deep breath. “So, we’re all doing it tonight,” he said. “No turning back… all right?”

“Right,” Draco said. The other two nodded. Harry took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Somehow, he knew that before everything is over, he will meet his grandfather face-to-face again. A horrible twisting sensation started in his gut and started to spread along his body as fear and anxiety started to spread. Finally, after years of knowing about his grandfather, after hearing of all the terrible events Voldemort has occurred; after suffering in a world without his parents because of the man, Harry was about to meet him. About to meet his first real familial member who is related directly by blood. After all this time of waiting and wrestling in his mind over this one singular question, Harry will have the chance to ask Voldemort directly. One thought, one word that was always on the back of his mind; a thought that always plagued his mind and he was desperate to say it to Voldemort directly no matter how scary the act might be. A question that Harry was afraid to hear answered, a question whose answer might either push Harry down a spiral of despair or lift him to a state of rage.

_Why?_


	20. Grandfatherly Meetings

**The Last Chapter**

**Grandfatherly Meetings**

Harry, Draco, Ron, and Hermione found themselves standing in the right-hand corridor on the third floor. The Gryffindors just barely got out of the dormitory, having to get past Neville who refused to move. Draco was waiting for the three just outside as they reached the door, which was now open. There was a sound of low rumbles coming from the three-headed dog as it slept, a harp playing next to it by itself. Fearing that the harp would stop, Harry pulled out the whittled flute Hagrid gave him for Christmas and started to blow into it. It wasn’t really a tune, but the dog continued to sleep as, just as Harry feared, the harp stopped playing.

“There, under it’s paw,” Draco whispered, pointing towards a dark-wooden trap door. “Ron, help me lift it. Harry, keep playing.” Ron, Hermione, and Draco went to lift and move Fluffy’s heavy paw. When it was clear, Ron grabbed the ring and opened the trapdoor.

“What can you see?” Hermione said anxiously.

“Nothing—just black—there’s no way of climbing down, we’ll just have to drop.”

Harry, who was still playing the flute, waved at Ron to get his attention and pointed to himself.

“No, you’re not going first,” Draco said immediately. “Give the flute to Hermione,” he added when he saw Harry’s annoyed look. Harry thrust it at Hermione, who continued to play it.

Harry climbed over the dog and looked down through the trapdoor. “Yes I am,” he said. “If anything happens to me, do not follow. Go straight to Dumbledore, send Hedwig to get him. He’s the man my grandfather is afraid of.”

“Right,” Ron said.

“No, you are not going first,” Draco argued.

“We don’t have time for this!” Harry growled. “Fine!” He grabbed Draco’s hand and pulled, hard. They both fell down, down, down until—

FLUMP. With a funny, muffled sort of thump they landed on something soft. Harry sat up and looked around, his eyes not used to the glooms. It felt as though he was sitting on some sort of plant.

“I hate you,” Draco grumbled as he sat up as well. “Get down here you lot!” he yelled into the darkness.

Ron followed right away. He landed, sprawled next to Harry. “What’s this stuff?” were his first words.

“Dunno, some sort of plant,” Harry said. “I suppose it’s here to break the fall. Hermione! Come on!”

The music stopped. There was a loud bark from the dog but Hermione had already jumped. She landed on Harry’s other side, next to Draco.

“We must be miles under the school,” she said.

“Lucky this plant thing’s here, really,” Ron said.

“Lucky? Look at you three!” Hermione shrieked. She leapt up and struggled toward a damp wall. She had to struggle because the moment she had landed, the plant had started to twist snakelike tendrils around her ankles. As for Harry, Draco, and Ron, their legs had already been bound tightly in long creepers without their noticing.

“What is this thing?” Draco demanded as the boys tried to fight the plant off of them, but the more they strained against it, the tighter and faster the plant wound around them.

“Stop moving!” Hermione ordered them. “I know what this is! It’s Devil’s Snare!”

“Oh, I’m glad we know what it’s called, that’s a great help,” Ron snarled, leaning back, trying to stop the plant from curling around his neck.

“Then hurry up and light a fire!” Draco yelled.

“Yes—of course—but there’s no wood!” Hermione cried, wringing her hands.

“HAVE YOU GONE MAD?” Ron bellowed. “ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT?”

“Oh, right!” Hermione said, and she whipped out her wand, waved it, muttering something, and sent a jet of fire at the plant. In a matter of seconds, the three boys felt it loosening its grip as it cringed away from the light and warmth. Wriggling and flailing, it unraveled itself from their bodies, and they were able to pull free.

“Lucky you two pay attention in Herbology,” Harry said to Hermione and Draco. He looked around and found a stone passageway, which was the only way forward. “This way,” he pointed.

All they could hear apart from their own footsteps was the gentle drip of water trickling down the walls. The passageway sloped downward. Up ahead, Harry could hear a soft rustling and clinking.

“What’s that?” he whispered.

“Can it be a ghost?” Hermione asked.

“Sounds like wings to me, Granger,” Draco said.

“Look, there’s a light,” Harry pointed.

They reached the end of the passageway and saw before them a brilliantly lit chamber, its ceiling arching high above them. It was full of small, jewel-bright birds, fluttering and tumbling all around the room. On the opposite side of the chamber was a heavy wooden door.

“Do you think they’ll attack us if we try and get to it?” Ron asked.

“Probably,” Harry said. “They don’t look very vicious, but I suppose if they all swooped down at once… well we gotta try, won’t we?”

And without warning, Harry covered his face with his arms and sprinted across the room. He expected to feel sharp beaks and claws tearing him apart at any second, but it never came. He reached the door untouched. He pulled the handle, and it was locked.

Draco turned his head upwards, his eyes squinting. He took a moment to clean his glasses then said, “Harry! They’re _keys_!”

He pointed upwards and the other three looked up and watched as they glittered. “Which key do we use then?” Harry asked. “And how do we get them?”

“Look!” Hermione said, pointing. There were broomsticks waiting for them. They each grabbed a broom and Harry said, “We’re looking for a big old-fashioned one—probably silver, like the handle.”

They kicked off into the air, soaring into the midst of the cloud of keys. They grabbed and snatched, but the bewitching keys darted and dived so quickly it was almost impossible to catch one.

Not for nothing, though, was Harry the youngest Seeker in a century. He had a knack for spotting things other people didn’t. After a minute’s weaving about through the whirl of rainbow feathers, he noticed a large silver key that had a bent wing, as if it had already been caught and stuffed roughly into the keyhole.

“That one!” Harry called to the others. “The big one with bright blue wings—the feathers are all crumped on one side.”

Ron went speeding in the direction that Harry was pointing, crashed into the ceiling, and nearly fell off his broom.

“We’ve got to get close to it!” Harry called, not taking his eyes off the key with the damaged wing. “Draco! Come at it from below; Ron above. I’ll try to catch it! NOW!”

Ron dived, Draco rocketed upward, the key dodged them both, and Harry streaked after it; it sped toward the wall, Harry leaned forward and with a nasty, crunching noise, pinned it against the stone with one hand. Ron and Hermione’s cheers echoed around the high chamber. Draco just sighed and shook his head.

They landed quickly, and Harry ran to the door, the key struggling in his hand. He rammed it into the lock and turned—it worked. The moment the lock had clicked open, the key took flight again, looking very battered now that it had been caught twice.

“Let’s go,” Draco sighed as Harry pulled open the door. The next chamber was so dark they couldn’t see anything at all. But as they stepped into it, light suddenly flooded the room to reveal an astonishing sight. They were standing on the edge of a huge chessboard, behind the black chessmen, which were all taller than they were and carved from what looked like black stone. Facing them, way across the chamber, were the white pieces. The four shivered slightly—the towering white chess pieces had no faces.

“Don’t tell me,” Draco groaned, seeing the door on the other side of the chessboard. He stepped onto the board and turned to face one of the black pieces. “We have to play? Don’t we?” he asked with a grimace.

At once the stone pieces sprung to life. The pawn looking down at him. “And,” Draco continued, his grimace turning into an angry horror, “adding insult to injury, _we_ have to join too, don’t we?”

The pawn nodded and Draco groaned. He turned to Ron, expectantly.

“What…. Let me think,” Ron said. “I suppose we’ve got to take the place of four of the black pieces…”

Harry and Hermione stayed quiet, watching Ron think. Draco scowled and started pacing. Finally, Ron said, “Now, don’t be offended or anything, but you three aren’t exactly good at chess—”

“Just tell us what to do Weasley,” Draco said irritably. “The longer we stay the more of a chance Harry’s grandfather has a chance of getting the Stone!”

“Right… well… Harry, take the place of the bishop… Hermione, you go next to him instead of that castle… Draco you can be the other bishop.”

“What about you?”

“I’m going to be a knight,” Ron said. Draco rolled his eyes.

The chessmen seemed to have been listening, because at these words, a knight, the two bishops, and a castle turned their backs on the white pieces and walked off the board, leaving four empty squares that Harry, Ron, Draco, and Hermione took.

“You better not get me killed Ron,” Draco warned him.

“I won’t,” Ron said. “White always plays first in chess,” he peered across the board. “Yes… look…”

A white pawn had moved forward two spaces.

Ron started to direct the black pieces. They moved silently wherever he sent them. Harry’s knees were trembling. What if they lost?

“Draco—move four spaces diagonally to the left.”

Their first real shock came when their other knight was taken. The white queen smashed him to the floor and dragged him off the board, where he lay quite still, facedown.

“Had to let that happen,” Ron said, looking shaken. “”Leaves you free to take that bishop, Hermione, go on.”

Every time one of their men was lost, the white pieces showed no mercy. Soon there was a huddle of limp black players slumped along the wall. Twice, Ron only just noticed in time that Harry, Draco, and Hermione were in danger. He himself darted around the board, taking almost as many white pieces as they had lost black ones.

“We’re nearly there,” he muttered suddenly. “Let me think… let me think…”

The white queen turned her blank face towards him.

“Yes…” Ron said softly. “It’s the only way—I’ll sacrifice myself. That way Harry can take the king.”

“NO!” the three shouted.

“That’s chess!” Ron snapped. “You’ve got to make some sacrifices! I take one step forward and she’ll take me—then the king will be free for you Harry.”

“Weasley! This is no time to play hero!” Draco yelled. “Just because you’re playing a knight doesn’t mean you are one!”

“Do you want Snape to get Stone or not?”

“Weasley—”

“Look, if you don’t hurry up, he’ll already have the Stone!”

There was no alternative. Ron’s face was pale but determined as he took a step forward and the white queen pounced. She struck Ron hard across the head with her stone arm, and he crashed to the floor—Hermione screamed but stayed on her square—the white queen dragged Ron to one side. He looked as if he’d been knocked out. Shaking, Harry moved three spaces to the left. The white king took off his crown and threw it at Harry’s feet. They had won. The chessmen parted and bowed, leaving the door ahead cleared. Hermione and Harry ran for Ron immediately as Draco made his way to the door. Lifting him back onto the board, Harry said, “Get him to the hospital wing, and send Hedwig to Dumbledore immediately, Draco and I will continue on.”

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?”

“Yes, worry more about Ron,” Harry said. He looked worryingly over at Draco. “We’ll be all right,” he repeated. He stood up and ran towards Draco, the two of them going through the door and up the new passageway.

“I’m sure he’s going to be fine,” Draco said. “Meanwhile… we have to think of who’s coming up next.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well… we had Hagrid with the dog, Professor Sprout with those vines that I’ll never want to see ever again, Professor Flitwick with those flying keys and Professor McGonagall with the chessmen. That just leaves Quirrell and Snape left. So, who will be first?” Draco asked.

A disgusting smell answered Draco’s question, making the boys pull up their robes to their noses. Eyes watering, they saw flat on the floor in front of them, a troll even larger than the one Harry had tackled, out cold with a bloody lump on its head.

“Dead… I’m glad we didn’t have to face this,” Harry said as they stepped over one of its massive legs. “Come on, I can’t breathe.”

“Smells worse than Crabbe and Goyle put together,” Draco said. “And I’m sure they both have trolls blood in them.”

Harry pulled open the next door, both of them hardly daring to look at what came next—but there was nothing very frightening in here, just a table with seven differently shaped bottles standing on it in a line.

“Snape’s,” Harry said. “What do we have to do?”

“Who knows,” Draco said as they stepped over the threshold, and immediately, a fire sprang up behind them in the doorway. It wasn’t ordinary fire either; it was purple. Ahead of them, black flames burst covering the doorway heading onward. “There’s a roll of paper,” Draco said, pointing to it next to the bottles. Draco took it and Harry read over his shoulder.

“Of course he would do something like this,” Harry moaned. “Git.”

The parchment read:

_Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind_

_Two of us will help you whichever you would find,_

_One among us seven will let you move ahead,_

_Another will transport the drinker back instead,_

_Two among out number hold only nettle wine,_

_Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line._

_Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,_

_To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:_

_First however slyly the poison tries to hide_

_You will always find some on nettle wine’s left side;_

_Second, different are those who stand at either end,_

_But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;_

_Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,_

_Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;_

_Fourth, the second left and the second on the right_

_Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight._

“Logic,” Harry sighed. “Draco… I hate your Head of House.”

“Would rather deal with that troll,” Draco grumbled, frowning. “So… where to begin?”

“Well we have to drink one of these potions or else we’ll be stuck in here forever,” Harry said.

“Being stuck with you isn’t such a bad fate,” Draco smirked.

“Yeah well, I would rather be stuck with you and have the ability to go wherever we want,” Harry said, his cheeks flushing a bit. “Now come on, let’s try to figure this out.”

They’ve read the scroll again several times, each time their frustration grew and brows furrowed. “Okay,” Draco said slowly after their fifth time reading it. “So… that one and that one doesn’t hold any poison,” Draco said pointing to the smallest and largest bottles. “That’s the um… one…two… three…Third and seventh, right?”

“Yeah…”

“So… that means… that the second and sixth can’t be poison either because—”

“Snape’s scroll says that poison is always on the wine’s left,” Harry finished.

“Right,” Draco nodded. “Which means that the first, fourth, and fifth potions will kill us if we drink from it.”

“So don’t,” Harry said, his head feeling as if he had a massive headache.

“Why would we?” Draco scoffed. “Just to be safe though…” He picked up the first, fourth, and fifth potion bottles and smashed them on the ground, their contents spilling over.

“Wait… The thing said that the potions at the end wouldn’t help us move onward right?” Harry asked, looking at the paper again.

“Think so… yeah,” Draco said.

“So that’s the biggest bottle… which means… it’s the smallest bottle that lets us go forward?” Harry said questioningly.

“Yes?” Draco asked. They referred to the sheet again and read it once more. “Yup, it’s the smallest one,” Draco said.

Harry took the smallest bottle and looked at it. “There’s only enough for one of us, look there’s hardly a swallow left.”

“Well… he’s your grandfather,” Draco said.

“Draco!”

“What? You’re a way better—slightly better wizard than I am,” Draco said. “You can talk to snakes! Which is so cool! Look…” Draco sighed. “You go on, and I’ll run back with the other three and get Dumbledore, okay? If your grandfather… if your grandfather is there I’m sure you can hold him off… talk to him, I know that you want to.”

“Draco…”

“Yes, I admit it,” Draco said. “Your grandfather might still be alive, and he might be in the very next room. A thought that I’m sure frightens you as much as it does me. Just… Harry, promise me one thing?”

“What is it?”

“Come back safe,” Draco said. “You’re my brother. I love you.”

“I love you too Draco,” Harry said, feeling a little teary-eyed. “Don’t care what anyone says.”

Draco gave a small smile and pulled Harry into a hug. “You’ll do fine… I know it,” he whispered. “Go on! I’ll smash the wine in case you need a quick run away.”

Harry nodded. They parted and took their potions. Harry felt as though ice was flooding his body. He put the bottle down and walked forward; he braced himself, saw the black flames licking his body, but couldn’t feel them—for a moment he could see nothing by dark fire—then he was on the other side, in the last chamber.

There was already someone there—but it wasn’t Snape. It wasn’t even Voldemort.

It was Quirrell.

“You!” Harry gasped.

Quirrell smiled. His face wasn’t twitching at all.

“Me,” he said coldly. “I wondered whether I’d be meeting you here, Potter.”

“But I thought—Snape—”

“Severus?” Quirrell laughed, cold and sharp. “Yes, Severus does seem the type doesn’t he? So useful to have him swooping around like an overgrown bat. Next to him, who would suspect p-p-poor, st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?”

Harry couldn’t take it in. This couldn’t be true, it couldn’t. Where was his grandfather?

“But Snape tried to kill me!”

“No, I tried to kill you! And I would have if Snape hadn’t been muttering a countercurse trying to save you! But now, at last, I’m going to kill you tonight.”

Quirrell snapped his fingers. Ropes sprang out of thin air and wrapped themselves tightly around Harry. “You’re too nosy to live, Potter. Scurrying around the school on Halloween like that, for all I knew you’d seen me coming to look at what was guarding the Stone.”

“So you’ve let the troll in,” Harry said, ignoring the fact that Quirrell misnamed him twice.

“Certainly. I have a special gift with trolls—you must have seen what I did to the one in the chamber back there? Unfortunately while everyone was running around looking for it, Snape, who already suspected me, went straight to the third floor to head me off—and not only did my troll fail to beat you to death, that three-headed dog didn’t even managed to bite Snape’s off properly

“Now, wait quietly, Potter. I need to examine this interesting mirror.”

It was only then that Harry realized what was standing behind Quirrell. It was the Mirror of Erised.

“The mirror is the key to finding the Stone,” Quirrell muttered to himself. “Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this…”

Harry struggled in the ropes, doing his best to reach for his pocket where his wand was sitting. Biting his lip tightly so he could muffle his grunting and groaning, Harry’s hand seemed to burn against the tight rope as he did his best to move. Quirrell walked slowly around the mirror as Harry struggled, the man’s eyes fixed on it before standing fully before it. “I see the Stone… I’m presenting it to my master … but where is it?”

_His master? Does that mean Quirrell is working with my grandfather?_ Harry wondered. He continued to struggle, but the rope refused to give. _“Come on you stupid—”_ he hissed. He looked up at Quirrell “A few days ago I saw you sobbing! That wasn’t from Snape threatening you?”

For the first time, a spasm of fear flitted across Quirrell’s face. “Somethings,” he said, “I find it hard to follow my master’s instructions—he is a great wizard and I am weak—”

“You mean he was there in the classroom with you?” Harry gasped. He could almost reach—

“He is with me wherever I go,” Quirrell said quietly. “I met him when I traveled around the world. A foolish young man I was then, full of ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was. There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it. …Since then, I have served him faithfully, although I have let him down many times—” Harry’s fingertips barely glazed across his pocket—” He had to be very hard on me. He does not forgive mistakes easily. When I failed to steal the stone from Gringotts, he was most displeased. He punished me… decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me. …”

Harry wiggled his arm desperately and ever so slowly forced his hand down into his pocket. He could feel the handle of his wand between his middle finger and pointer. Moving those two, he did his best to move his wand upwards until he had a proper grip. Then, with difficulty and slowness, he moved his arm up again.

Quirrell cursed under his breath.

“I don’t understand… is the Stone inside the mirror? Should I break it?”

Harry’s mind was racing as he moved his wand, now only a quarter out of his pocket. _What I want more than anything else in the world at the moment is to find the Stone before Quirrell does. So if I look in the mirror, I should see myself finding it—which means I’ll see where it’s hidden!_

He tried to move, but the ropes around his ankles were too tight; he tripped and fell over. Quirrell ignored him. He was still talking to himself.

“What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!”

And to Harry’s horror, a voice answered, and the voice seemed to come from Quirrell himself.

“Use the boy…”

_Grandfather,_ Harry thought dreadfully.

Quirrell rounded on Harry.

“Yes—Potter—come here.”

He clapped his hands once, and the ropes binding Harry fell off. Harry slowly got to his feet. _I need the Stone. I must find the Stone. I need it._ He thought to himself as he walked towards Quirrell. “Tell me what you see,” the man ordered.

Quirrell moved close behind him. Harry breathed in the funny smell that seemed to come from Quirrell’s turban. He closed his eyes, stepped in front of the mirror, and opened his eyes again. He saw his reflection, pale and scared-looking at first. But a moment later, the reflection smiled at him. It put its hand into its pocket and pulled out a blood-red stone. It winked and put the Stone back in its pocket—and as it did so, Harry felt something heavy drop into his real pocket Harry smiled inward to himself. He got the Stone! Now he just needed to figure out how to get out of the room alive.

“Well,” Quirrell said impatiently. “What do you see?”

Harry screwed up his courage. “I see me and Draco married… Blaise is there as well, we’re all wearing the same suits. We’re kicking both Draco and mine father and my grandfather,” he said.

Quirrell cursed again.

“Get out of the way!” he pushed Harry aside. He felt the Stone brush against his leg. He decided to slowly move away from Quirrell towards the exit. He hadn’t walked five paces until a high voice spoke, though Quirrell wasn’t moving his lips. “He lies…Let me speak to him… face-to-face.”

“Master, you aren’t strong enough!”

“I have strength enough… for this…”

Harry felt as if Devil’s Snare was rooting him to the spot as fearful apprehension filled him. He couldn’t move a muscle. He watched as Quirrell reached up and began to unwrap his turban. It fell away and Quirrell turned on the spot.

Where should have been a back to Quirrell’s head, there was a face, the most terrible face Harry had ever seen. It was chalk white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake.

“Harry Potter…” it whispered. “See what I have become? See what I must do to survive. Live off another. A mere parasite. Unicorn blood can sustain me, but it cannot give me a body of my own. But there is something that can. Something that lies in your pocket.”

Throwing caution to the wind, Harry hissed in Parseltongue, _“I’ll never give it to you Grandfather.”_ Shock went on Voldemort’s face as Quirrell looked confused. Not losing momentum, Harry continued. _“You are my grandfather! Years ago, you had a baby, a boy and Dumbledore took him and gave him to the Potters to raise. He grew and began to study the Dark Arts with the man he loved until you killed him! He was a Parselmouth too, and you killed him Grandfather!”_

“W-what is he saying Master? I can’t understand,” Quirrell said, looking extremely panicked. Harry stood his ground as he stared at his grandfather.

_“A Parselmouth…”_ Voldemort said in the language of the snakes. _“And yet… you are in Gryffindor. How do I know that you are truthful…?”_

_“Why did you kill my dad? Your son!”_ Harry demanded. _“Tell me why Grandfather!”_

_“He fought against me, why wouldn’t I kill him?”_ Voldemort said.

_“He was your son! All he wanted was to figure out who his real father is!”_

_“And he did not serve his purpose, Harry. He was weak! He could’ve have extraordinary things… until I no longer required him. In the end, he met the same fate he would have if Dumbledore did not take him away,”_ The evil face was smiling.

_“You were going to kill him either way!”_ Harry said in anger. _“Your son! Your family…. Grandfather!”_

_“But you… you are different, Harry, I can see it clearly. There is no good or evil. Only power, and those too weak to seize it. Join me, my grandson, and we will do extraordinary things.”_

A strong ball of emotions sprung in Harry. His rage was filling inside him, his hands and body shaking in both fear and anger and other complicated emotions that overwhelmed him and drowned him in this confusing mixture that made it so he couldn’t think straight. He glared at Voldemort and, for a brief second, saw a flash of long platinum hair in his mind as he hissed out cold and deadly, _“I hate you. I hate you! I’ll never join you! YOU KILLED MY DAD!”_

“KILL HIM!” Lord Voldemort screamed and the next second, Harry felt Quirrell’s hand on his wrist. At once, a needle-sharp pain seared across Harry’s scar; his head felt as though it was about to split in two; he yelled, struggled with all his might, and to his surprise, Quirrell let go of him, screaming in pain. The pain in his head lessened and Harry saw to his horror as Quirrell’s hands seemed to be disintegrating in front of him, turning into red-bloody dust. Getting an idea, Harry leapt onto Quirrell, his hands pressing against Quirrell’s face, squeezing as hard as he could.

The man screamed in total agony as angry red scars appeared wherever Harry touched him, the scars spreading and bursting into more blisters. Quirrell couldn’t touch his skin! Not without suffering horrible pain! Harry continued to press his hands against Quirrell until he saw the man’s nose starting to disappear—then he moved around, grabbing any piece of Quirrell’s body that he could. The pain in Harry’s head was building—he couldn’t see—he could only hear Quirrell’s terrible shrieks and Voldemort’s yelling of “KILL HIM! KILL HIM!” and other voices, in Harry’s own head, crying “Harry! Harry!”

He felt Quirrell’s arm turn to dust beneath his hand followed by an onslaught of sandy dust falling on him, the sudden loss of the mass Harry was pressing against causing Harry to fall—into blackness, down… down… down…

 

Then he blinked. And blinked again. The smiling face of Albus Dumbledore swam into view above him. “Good afternoon, Harry,” Dumbledore said.

Harry stared at him. Then he remembered. “The Stone! Quirrell was after the Stone!”

“Calm yourself, dear boy, you are a little behind the times,” Dumbledore said. “Quirrell does not have the Stone.”

“Then who does?”

“Harry, please relax, or Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out.”

Harry swallowed and looked around him. He realized he must be in the hospital wing. He was lying in a bed with white linen sheets and next to him was a table piled high with what looked like half the candy shop.

“Tokens from your friends and admirers,” Dumbledore said, beaming. “What happened down in the dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, naturally, the whole school knows. I believe your friends Misters Fred and George Weasley were responsible for trying to send you a toilet seat. No doubt they thought it would amuse you, Madam Pomfrey, however, thought otherwise.”

“How long have I been here?”

“Three days. Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss Granger will be most relieved you have come round, they have been extremely worried. Not to mention your adoptive brother Mr. Draco Malfoy.”

“But sir, the Stone—”

“I see you are not to be distracted. Very well, the Stone. Professor Quirrell did not manage to take it from you. Though it be an unbelievable sight, the moment I have arrived, you were the only person in the chamber, next to you was but a pile of… well the remains of Professor Quirrell’s clothing,” Dumbledore said.

“But where is the Stone now?” Harry asked.

“It has been destroyed,” Dumbledore said.

“Destroyed? But your friend—Nicolas Flamel—won’t he die without it?”

“Oh, you know about Nicolas?” Dumbledore said, sounding quite delighted. “You did do the thing properly, didn’t you? Well, Nicolas and I have had a little chat, and agreed it was all for the best.”

“But that means he and his wife will die, won’t it?”

“They have enough of the Elixir to settle their affairs, but yes, they will die,” Dumbledore said, smiling at the look of astonishment on Harry’s face. “

Harry quickly got rid of it and looked up at Dumbledore. “Sir… Vol—my grandfather—”

“Call him Voldemort, Harry. Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself.”

“Voldemort. My grandfather,” Harry repeated. “He’s going to try and come back, isn’t he? I mean, he is not really gone.”

“No, Harry, he is not. He is still out there somewhere, perhaps looking for another body to share… not being truly alive, he cannot be killed. He left Quirrell to die; he shows just as little mercy to his followers as his enemies—”

“We talked,” Harry said, interrupting Dumbledore. “My grandfather and I. We talked in Parseltongue, I didn’t know why I started speaking in it, I just did. He told me… he told me that my dad would have died either way if he stayed with him or not. How… how could he be so cold? To his own family?”

“Because Harry,” Dumbledore said. “Voldemort is missing one single thing that you and your father and mother possess. One thing that made it impossible for Professor Quirrell to touch you: Love. Voldemort does not understand it’s power. He didn’t realize that love as powerful as your mother’s for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign … to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever.”

“Who are you…” Harry said softly, “to speak of love?” He looked up at Dumbledore. “My dad loved someone else before my mum. He loved Sirius Black with all his heart… he even… he even changed his body so he and Sirius could have a baby, have me. But then you tore them apart. You made it that my dad completely forgot his love for Sirius and instead fell in love with my mum. Why sir?”

Dumbledore looked melancholic. “Fear, Harry, can be a strange emotion. Having knowing of James’ true lineage, and his close relationship with Sirius Black, I had feared that despite my best effort, the boy still fell to the Dark Arts. It seemed to me that his performing of the transfiguration of his own body, and his constant search and research about Voldemort, confirmed my illogical fears. Out of a need to save himself and Black, I’ve fashioned a potion that would make James fall in love with his friend Lily Evans. The potion only affected his heart. You must believe how relieved and surprised to see him join the fight against his father, and how feverish he seemed to be. If it is possible, I would ask for forgiveness against an old man’s ill-placed fear.”

“No,” Harry said immediately. “You… you almost ruined everything. Though I can barely remember them, I can still remember the things the Dursleys did to me… and even though I’ve made friends with the Weasleys, you still tore me from my adoptive family to be with them. I don’t think I can ever forgive you, sir. But… you’re my headmaster, so I’ll just respect you because of that.”

“Spoken like a boy beyond his years, Harry,” Dumbledore said. “It is understandable, I too have my crimes to pay for. Most, after hearing the revelation I just give, would have tried to curse me into oblivion, telling me of their rightful hatred of my poorly thought out decisions. You, however, have taken a higher road.”

“Just do one thing,” Harry said, “please?”

“Of course, Harry,” Dumbledore said.

“Can you tell Sirius? The stuff you just told me… can you tell Sirius why you’ve done what you did?” Harry asked.

Dumbledore gave a small smile and nodded, “Naturally,” he said. “Although I’m not sure that he will be as much as a willing audience as you are.”

Harry nodded and said, “I just want him to know the truth.”

“Ahh the truth,” Dumbledore sighed. “It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with caution. However, I will do what you asked in order to preserve your father’s and mother’s memory. Now, enough questions. I suggest you make a start on these sweets. Ah! Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans! I was unfortunate enough in my youth to come across a vomit-flavoring one, and since then I’m afraid I’ve rather lost my liking for them—but I think I’ll be safe with a nice toffee…”

He smiled and popped the golden-brown bean into his mouth. “Alas,” he said chewing. “Ear wax!”

Harry made his way to the end-of-term feast alone. He had been held up by Madam Pomfrey’s fussing about, insisting on giving him one last checkup, so that the Great Hall was already full. It was decked out in Slytherin colors of green and silver to celebrate Slytherin’s winning the house cup for the seventh year in a row. A huge banner showing the Slytherin serpent covered the wall behind the High Table.

Harry offered Draco and Blaise a reassuring smile and wave when he walked in, quietly slipping to his seat between Ron and Hermione. Dumbledore stood up and said cheerfully, “Another year gone! And I must trouble you with an old man’s wheezing waffle before we sink out teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were …you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts. …

“Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding, but before we present the winner, there are a few recent events that need to be taken into account. I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see… First—to Mr. Ronald Weasley for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor fifty points. Second—to Miss Hermione Granger for cunning cleverness to overcome any challenge, I award Gryffindor fifty points. … Third, to Mr. Draco Malfoy for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Slytherin fifty points.

“Fourth—to Mr. Harry Potter-Malfoy for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points.”

The din was deafening. Those who could add up while yelling themselves hoarse knew that Gryffindor now had four hundred and seventy-two points, the same as Slytherin now. Dumbledore raised his hand. The room became quiet once more. “It takes a great deal of courage to stand up to your enemies, but it takes a greater amount to stand up to our friends. I therefore award Neville Longbottom, ten points. Which means,” he now was yelling over the storm of applause, “we need a little change of decoration! Gryffindor wins the House Cup!”

Dumbledore clapped his hands; in an instant the green hangings became scarlet and the silver became gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanished and a towering Gryffindor lion took its place. Snape was shaking Professor McGonagall’s hand, with a horrible, forced smile. It was the best evening of Harry’s life, better than winning at Quidditch, or Christmas, or knocking out mountain trolls… he would never, ever forget tonight.

 

“HARRY!” Sirius’s voice boomed when the man saw him and Draco climbing out the Hogwarts Express. “DRACO! GET OVER HERE!”

The two held their luggage carts tightly and ran towards Sirius, letting go of them when they got near the man in order to hug him. “God I missed you two,” Sirius grinned. “I want you two to tell me everything, don’t miss a single detail! I’ve talked with Narssy and you two are having dinner with me tonight so I want to hear everything!”

“With you? Where’s father?” Draco asked with a small frown.

“Oh you know him, being grumpy as always,” Sirius smiled. “Now come on! Come on! You two must have had a busy year, it will take a long time to tell. Oh and there’s my friend Remus of course, he’ll want to hear it as well—you two will love him! I’ve told you about him right?”

Harry laughed and nodded as he and Draco took their carts again. They smiled and follow Sirius away from the crowds of families and towards the exit of Platform Nine and three quarters. Harry was somewhat disappointed to see that Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy weren’t there to pick them up, but all his disappointment flew away the moment he saw Sirius smiled. In an odd sort of way, Harry felt being with Sirius felt more right, more comfortable than being with his adoptive parents. He was just better to be with, easier to connect to. But, as Sirius helped load their trunks into a car (“Can you believe that Muggles actually use these without magic? Remus thought it was a good idea for me to actually get one, but I like my motorcycle better, it can fly!”), Harry decided that he didn’t care who raised him. He loved Sirius, and he loved Mrs. Malfoy… and though he was still angry at Mr. Malfoy for his actions in September, he supposed he had a sort of familial respect for the man. To Harry, all that mattered was that he and Draco were together. As brothers, husbands, boyfriends, or whatever they decide to be further down the road.

As long as Harry and Draco are together, Harry felt that he would be happy. And that was enough for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who stuck with me to the end! I'm a bit on the fence if I'll do later years. I have my notes ready... but motivation is lacking at the moment. I've post this story both on here and FanFiction and while the reception here is nothing but friendly, FanFiction... wasn't. Most likely if I do a sequel, it will only be on here. But nevertheless, thank you to EVERYONE who read and enjoyed my stories! That is all I can ask for.
> 
> Have a great day!


	21. Chapter 21

Short informal chapter too late in the game to tell everyone about the sequels. First is Harry Malfoy's Family, which is completed and lastly there is the third and final story in the trilogy that is currently untitled and in the planning stage. Thank you to everyone who has enjoyed the story and gotten passed all the kissing...... yeah, way too much here. Oops. 


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